


Hold Your Breath

by camwelgrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism (John), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Beach Town, Canonical Character Death, Castiel (Supernatural) Whump, Coming of Age, Dean Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Dean Winchester Whump, Dean has anxiety, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Loosely inspired by Aquamarine, M/M, Mild Self Harm, Mildy Destructive Coping Mechanisms, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Child Neglect, Pining, Recreational Alcohol Consumption, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winchesters own a motel, mermaid au, merman!Castiel, teenage dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 120,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwelgrace/pseuds/camwelgrace
Summary: The summer after Dean Winchester's high school graduation doesn't seem like it's going to be a very exciting one. Dean's life consists of working for Bobby at the salvage yard, taking care of Sammy, and helping his dad run the motel.That is, until a violent storm washes up a dark-haired, blue-eyed merman into The Beach Bunker's pool. With Castiel on land and sporting a brand new - albeit transient - pair of legs, the two of them discover that there's a lot for them to learn from one another. Not only about themselves and their present, but also about the past.Or,The one where Dean Winchester can't believe he's falling for the hot merman who got washed up in his pool. Since when was his life so friggin' weird?





	1. the storm and the sea creature

**Author's Note:**

> A few things - 
> 
> Thanks so much to Charli, who has kindly agreed to be my beta for this story. <3 This was inspired initially by [this beautiful artwork](https://castielsgal.tumblr.com/post/174204844239/hold-your-breath-fyi-not-from-anyones-fanfic) that I stumbled on and couldn't stop thinking about. From there, it was loosely inspired by the movie Aquamarine (super cute, you gotta see it). 
> 
> I should be updating once a week as long as my summer doesn't get too crazy. 
> 
> It's been three years since I've posted a story, and I'm thrilled to be back! Any feedback would be immensely appreciated. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Charli for beta'ing this chapter and helping me get started <3

Shit. _Shit._ His dad’s gonna kill him. 

Watching helplessly from under the portico, Dean scrapes a distressed hand backwards through his hair before flinching down as another crack of thunder splits the sky. 

He is so dead. 

“We are _so_ dead,” Sam yells from beside him, raising his voice over the deafening downpour. 

Dean glances down at him and shakes his head. “Not _we_ , Sam, _me_. This ain’t your fault.” Which is true. It wasn’t _Sam’s_ job to close up the place before the storm. It wasn’t _Sam’s_ job to get the pool covered in time. It was _Dean’s_ , and it wasn’t done. 

“I was the one who went to the stupid movies and had to be picked up! I should’ve asked for a ride from - ” 

“Sammy, cut it out!” Dean cuts him off, turning to face him completely. “I screwed up, this isn’t on you! Besides - ” The next clap of thunder is so loud it has Dean’s heart leaping into his throat and his stomach twisting familiarly. Ducking, he grabs Sam by the arm. “Come on, get inside!” 

Dean drags his little brother through the side door back into the motel, pulling the slider shut with maybe a little too much force and locking it. The sound of the storm quiets to a dull roar behind the glass. His heart slowing to a more normal rhythm, Dean drags his eyes from the monsoon to look back down at his brother. 

“Get that bitchy look off your face, Sam.” Dean turns and walks away before he can see Sam’s face get bitchier. “It was my job, and I didn’t get it done.” 

With his shoes squeaking annoyingly on the linoleum, Dean turns down the hallway towards the lobby, Sam trailing after him and continuing to complain. Dean’s gotten pretty good at ignoring him. 

“Joanna Beth,” Dean says as he shuffles through the swinging half-door behind the front desk. 

“Deanna Michelle,” Jo deadpans back from her monarchal perch on the spinny chair. Dean’s pretty good at ignoring that, too. 

“Anything new?” Crossing his arms, he leans over her shoulder to look at the sign-in book. Sam plops down in the chair next to her. There’s just the same twelve or so names on the list that there were earlier. About half are regulars, the others probably here to visit the beach early, before the real summer rush. 

“Nope. Everyone’s hiding from the storm elsewhere, I guess.”

“Hm. Your mom still here?”

“Yeah,” Jo nods her head towards the door behind them which leads to the back room. “She’s workin’ on bills or something. You get the pool done?”

Dean grimaces. She matches his look.

“Shit. And your dad’s getting back when?”

“Uh, tomorrow, I think,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. Even he can hear the false offhandedness in his voice. His phone rings in his pocket. 

_Shit._

Pushing off from the counter where he was leaning, Dean digs his phone out and shoves out from the behind the desk. As he leaves, he doesn’t miss the sound of Sam’s annoyed huff before he thumbs open the call and presses the phone to his ear. 

“Uh, hello?” He heads down the short hall, at the end of which are the ice and soda machines. 

“Dean.” John’s voice is gruff, and it sounds like he’s in the car. 

“Hey, Dad.” 

“You been watching the weather? Storm’s about to hit, I heard.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean, it’s here. It’s happening now.” He closes his eyes. Jesus, he sounds like an idiot. 

“Yeah? Everything good? I’m not gonna come back to shutters blown off and chairs three blocks away, right?” 

“Uh, no. No, sir. I closed everything up and brought the chairs into the shed.” He reaches the end of the hall, turns on his heel, paces the other way. 

“You get the pool done, too?”

Shit, shit shit shit. He can’t lie. First of all, his dad always knows when he’s lying, and second of all, he’s going to see how dirty the pool is when he gets back tomorrow. He’s waited too long to respond now anyway, and - 

“Dean.” His dad’s voice is sharp, now, a tone that Dean feels himself react to despite the words being caught in his throat. 

“No, sir.”

A pause. For a moment, Dean can’t hear anything but his own pulse pounding in his ears. 

“No, you didn’t get the pool closed?” John asks slowly, making the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck prickle.

“No, sir, I didn’t. Not in time, I - everything else is done, I was saving the pool for last, and then the storm - ”

“Goddammit, Dean, are you serious?”

Dean stays quiet. 

“If I have to drain that fucking pool tomorrow, I’m gonna be pissed.” 

_You’re already pissed_ , Dean thinks.

“Memorial Day is this weekend, and that pool needs to be ready. Jesus, Dean. You better not have any plans tomorrow, because Rufus and I aren’t gonna clean up after you by ourselves.” 

“Sir, I - I told Bobby I’d work a shift for him in the morning - ”

“Well you better get your ass back to the Bunker right after, you hear me? I swear to God, Dean, you had one job to do.” 

Dean’s stomach pitches violently, and he says, quietly, “I know, sir. I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault, I - ”

“Damn right this is your fault. If that pool’s not ready by this weekend, that money’s comin’ outta your pocket, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean finds himself staring, unseeing, into the depths of the soda machine.

“You’re not a kid anymore. I shouldn’t have to be on you about this shit, you should know better.”

“Yes, sir.”

John sighs, and Dean doesn’t relax. “I’ll be back before noon. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“No, sir, I won’t.”

John hangs up. Dean stands there a minute before letting his breath out slow, not realizing he had been holding it. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, and then brings his hand up to push his thumb sharply into his side, in the spot between his ribs. 

Thunder growls overhead, and he pretends he doesn’t flinch. 

_Shit._

****

Dean tosses in his bed, his sheets tangled around his legs. He doesn’t think there’s any way he’ll fall asleep, with the storm raging like it is. The window panes rattle violently, and lightning flashes around the sides of the blinds. 

He must drift off at some point, though, because eventually, the dreams come. They feel like they always do - like strong currents pulling at his limbs, like water in his lungs. The heat. He never sees or hears anything in particular, but there’s always the feeling. Like drowning. 

And there’s that presence, near him. If he tries to look, his eyes burn with salt water and he has to squeeze them shut, but he can see the light through his lids, it’s so bright. It scares him shitless, and he thrashes. 

A searing heat, but when he screams, all that comes out are bubbles. 

With a sharp inhale of breath that feels like his first in years, Dean gasps awake. Lying still with terror still threatening to close his throat, he waits for his breathing to settle. Tries to remember what caused his chest to tighten in panic. The memory of water around him, but that’s it. He can never remember much more from his dreams than that. 

Stupid storm. They always dredge up nightmares, making his skin feel hot and tight and prickly. When he can finally hear over his racing heart, though, it’s quiet on the other side of his window. His alarm clock flashes 00:00 at him, unhelpfully. The power must have gone out at some point. 

Squinting at his phone screen, Dean sees that it’s 2:21am. He tosses the phone aside and gets out of bed, wrinkling his nose at the feeling of cold sweat drying on his back. 

At the window, he pulls the blind aside and blinks out into the dark. It’s quiet in front of the motel now, the vacancy sign reflecting dully off the wet pavement. He checks to make sure no letters were blown off the sign again, but sees with relief that the words _The Beach Bunker_ are complete. The sun painted behind the letters is a little chipped, but nothing terrible. 

_I wonder how the pool looks_ , he thinks, and grimaces. He drops the blinds back into place and turns away from the window. There’s no way he’s falling asleep again any time soon. He might as well go check out the damage. 

He stops briefly at Sam’s door on his way out of their tiny apartment and peers in at his brother, who’s sleeping soundly, his fish tank bubbling faintly on his bedside table. He ignores his dad’s empty room as he walks by, and he lets himself out, choosing to leave through the door that leads outside as opposed to the one that opens into the lobby building. 

The storm is long gone by now, but it has left behind a chill uncharacteristic of late May. Dean crosses his arms and ignores his goosebumps as he makes his way around to the back of the motel with his bare feet. He punches in the code to the gate that leads to the pool area, steels himself, and pushes through. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispers. 

The place is trashed. The doors to the storage shed must have been blown open, because a stack of pool chairs lay toppled over in the doorway. An umbrella that he doesn’t think even belongs to them is broken and strewn across the deck among an unbelievable amount of seaweed. The fence that surrounds the area has boards missing on the side nearest to the ocean, and not just a few. 

And the _pool_. Fuck, the pool. 

It looks like half the ocean had washed up into it. The water is murky and sandy and full of seaweed, and he can’t even see the bottom of it. 

“ _Fuck._ ” 

John is _definitely_ going to kill him tomorrow. Dean swallows with a gulp. 

Maybe he can clean up a little bit now. If he at least gets the seaweed out of the water and picks up around the deck, it won’t look nearly as bad when his dad gets home in the morning. 

He starts with the shed, heaving the chairs back up into it so they’re stacked properly. Luckily none seem to be cracked. He stands for a minute, debating what to do next. Considering the pool net and the push broom hanging next to each other on the wall in the shed, he knows which task he _should_ do first. He put the pool off until last yesterday, and look where that got him. 

_Come on Winchester, quit being a fucking wuss_ , he thinks, and he forces himself to grab the pool net. 

He picks his way over to the pool with the net held in front of him like a weapon. It’s ridiculous, he knows that for sure, but it does make him feel a little more secure. 

By now, Sam’s given up trying to get Dean in the pool with him - or rather, has given up trying to get Dean to do any kind of swimming at all. Dean doesn’t even like to take _baths_ anymore, but he can tell himself now that it’s only because he’s too tall to fit comfortably in the tub. Pool parties can sometimes be awkward, but Dean’s gotten good at making excuses as to why he can’t get in the water. Excuses other than the fact that he’s a stupid baby who’s afraid to freakin’ swim. 

Dean pushes all of this from his mind as his bare feet reach the edge of the pool. He’s mindful of the ledge, keeping a safe distance from it as he skims the net across the surface of the water, catching the first bit of floating seaweed. Filled with all of this junk from the ocean, the pool gives him the creeps even more than usual, but he ignores the familiar way his stomach squeezes painfully. 

He’s just emptying the net of seaweed into a pile on the deck, his back partially turned to the deep end, when he hears a soft splash from behind him. Dean whirls around, his heart all of a sudden hammering in his chest, and he scans the surface of the pool with wide eyes. 

He _definitely_ heard a splash, but the water seems just as murky and still as it did a minute ago… Squinting through the dark, Dean tries to determine if he can actually see ripples across the water on the far side, or if it’s just his eyes and his mind playing tricks on him.

Knuckles white with his death grip on the net, Dean sets his jaw and huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. He’s being ridiculous. What could possibly be in the pool? What, a _sea monster_ washed into it with the tide? 

With one last scan of the water with his eyes, Dean forces himself to continue with his task, keeping his gaze firmly on what he’s doing as he scoops debris from the water. 

His next swipe of the net clears a large tangle of seaweed from below him, and reveals a wide pair of eyes gazing up at him from deep within the pool. 

Dean shouts loudly in alarm and leaps backwards away from the edge, dropping the net in his haste. 

_What the fuck was that?!_

Several paces back from the pool now, Dean can no longer see down into the water at what was _definitely_ a face, staring up at him from deep below. 

“No way,” Dean says to himself, pacing a few strides back and forth on the deck. “I’m seeing things… There’s nothing in the pool. I’m being crazy.” 

He scrapes his fingers through his hair and then puts his hands on his hips, stopping his pacing to stare warily at the pool from a few yards away. He can’t get the image of giant blue eyes peering up at him out of his head. 

“No, it was probably… a pair of earrings that washed up, or something else reflect-y. Yeah.” He nods to himself, feeling like a complete crazy person. “There’s nothing in the pool. There’s just seaweed, and junk, and definitely not a sea monster.” 

He just needs to grab the net again, finish getting the seaweed out, sweep the deck, and then he can go back inside to his warm, dry bed and not think about the stupid pool again until tomorrow. Yep, that’s exactly what he’s gonna do. Now, where did he put the - 

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean sighs. There’s the net, floating innocently several feet from the edge. Dammit. Now what? He can’t exactly go in there and get it. 

“This is the _worst_ fucking day,” he mutters to himself, and he turns to go back to the shed, where there may be something he can use to fish it out. 

He’s only gone a few steps when there is a _definite_ splash from behind him, a soft clatter, and a deep voice says, 

“You dropped this.” 

Dean spins so fast he’s caught off balance, and he catches sight of a dark-haired sea monster that broke the surface of the water and is now holding onto the concrete ledge of the pool, where it had apparently just placed the net that had seconds ago been floating across the middle. 

Dean cries out and staggers backwards, tripping in his panic and ending up on his ass on the concrete. He scrambles backwards on his heels and hands until his back hits the doors of the shed. 

“What the _fuck!_ ” He yells. 

“I apologize for startling you,” the sea monster says, his tone low and sincere. 

The monster looks - well, actually, he looks like a dude. Like some shirtless, dark-haired, (good-looking, if Dean admits it to himself), guy, who doesn’t seem much older than Dean. And who for whatever reason is swimming in the Bunker’s trashed pool at two-thirty in the morning, and now that Dean’s staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, he realizes that he’s _not_ , in fact, a sea monster. 

Dean lets out a laugh which even to his own ears sounds a little high and panicked. He rubs the heel of his hand over his ribs, and shakes his head. 

“Dude, you scared the shit out of me.” Dean can’t even find it in himself to be angry at the guy yet, as relieved as he is that he didn’t just get eaten by a deep sea creature. He carefully picks himself off the ground and makes his way back towards the pool. “What the hell are you doing? Pool hopping is like, illegal, and I could totally call the cops on you right now, man.”

“Oh, I’m not - ” The pool hopper looks hesitant. “I was washed up, in the storm.”

“What do you mean, washed - ”

And then, emerging from the water from behind the guy with a slosh, is a huge, scaly, iridescent tail. It’s probably six feet long, and it’s freaking _attached_ to him, in place of his legs. 

Dean backpedals, just barely keeping himself from shouting out, _again_ (because, _unmanly as hell, Winchester_ ) and he almost falls flat on his ass for the second time. 

“What the fuck is that! You’re - that’s - _oh my god_.” Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “Oh my god, I’m losing it. What is happening - what the fuck - ” He opens his eyes again, but the _sea monster_ (he was right all along, there was a freaking _sea monster in the pool_ ) is still there, staring at him patiently, although looking a little exasperated. 

“You’re not real,” Dean tells it. “I’m dreaming, or something, or I’ve gone crazy - ”

“I am real,” sea monster says, and it brings its tail down on the surface of the water with a soft _slap_. “And it’s sort of rude for you to tell me that I’m not, quite frankly.”

Dean points at him. “You have - that’s - ”

“A tail, yes.”

“A friggin’ _tail_. You have a _tail_ , you’re a - you’re - ”

“A merman.” 

Dean just gapes at him, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god, you’re not real.” 

“If I weren’t real, could I do this?” And the monster flicks its tail up sharply, splashing water out of the pool and directly at Dean, who puts his hands up in vain and gets significantly doused down his front. 

“What the hell, man!” Dean exclaims. 

“My apologies. I was just trying to prove a point.” The guy - the _sea creature_ \- pushes off from the side of the pool and drifts lazily to the shallow end, where it settles on the step, tail stretched out in front of it. 

“There’s a mermaid in my pool,” Dean mutters, eyes following its movement. 

“Mer _man_ ,” it corrects. 

“There’s a mer _man_ in my pool, and it sassed me, and it splashed water on me, and I think I’m losing it.” No matter how many times Dean blinks and shakes his head, it’s still there. Lounging in the shallow end, staring at him. 

“I’m not an _it_ , I’m a _he_. And you’re not ‘losing it.’ I didn’t mean to alarm you, but I can assure you that I am not a hallucination or a figment of your imagination.” 

Dean takes a few steadying breaths and the two regard one another, Dean still wary. 

“But you’re not… gonna eat me or something, right?” Dean asks.

“Of course not.”

_What the hell is happening? This is crazy! There’s a hot merman in the pool and he’s talking to me_ , Dean thinks. Then, _Oh my god, I just thought the merman was hot._

“Alright….” Dean braves a few steps closer. “You got a name?”

“Castiel,” the merman says. 

“Castiel,” Dean tries to name out, and notices a small smile lift on Castiel’s face. 

“Yes.”

“Um. I’m Dean.” 

“Hello, Dean.”

Still a little distrustful, Dean lowers himself to a crouch a few feet from the edge, where he can be on Castiel’s level. “Mermaids speak English?”

“They do. Mer _men_ speak English as well, obviously,” he says pointedly. “We speak all languages.”

“All languages, huh…” Dean says absently, but his eyes have caught the shimmering movement of Castiel’s tail under the water. He swallows and looks back up at Castiel’s face to find that he’s staring at him with those giant blue eyes. Dean recoils slightly, feeling nervous. “Dude, you’re staring.”

“My apologies,” Castiel says, but he doesn’t sound very sorry and he doesn’t stop staring. “I’ve never been this close to a human before.” 

“Yeah,” Dean huffs a little bit of a laugh. “Must be weird for you….” He kneads at the side of his ribcage with his knuckles, nervously, but he stops when he notices Castiel’s gaze follow the movement. 

Castiel’s tail splashes softy, and Dean’s eyes snap to it. He can feel Castiel watching him look at it - it’s huge, and really quite remarkable. Muscular looking, and a glimmering deep blue that seems to change shades in the moonlight, each large scale a slightly different hue. 

“Would you like to touch it?”

“What?” Dean asks in alarm, eyes wide. 

“My tail.”

“Um.” Castiel is looking at him earnestly, and Dean ignores the pain in his stomach, and he gulps. “Okay.”

Cautiously, with one hand braced on the concrete, Dean reaches out. 

“Wait.” Castiel says sharply, and Dean snatches his hand back into his own space. 

“ _What?_ ” 

“You’re bleeding,” Castiel is looking at Dean’s hand.

Dean follows his gaze, turning his palm upward to see that it’s all scraped up and oozing blood just a little. The other hand is, too - probably from when he went sprawling backwards earlier. He only just now registers the sting. 

“Oh,” Dean says. “I’m alright.”

“Here, let me see.” 

“Huh?”

“Hold out your hands.” 

He hesitates at first, but then Dean does as Castiel says and he holds his hands out towards him, palms up. Though he flinches a little, he forces himself to stay still as Castiel reaches his own hands out and with the barest of touches, trails his fingertips across Dean’s palms. He can feel the drops of water left in the wake of Castiel’s dripping fingers, and he can’t help but shiver. His palms feel warm, all of a sudden, and before his eyes his hands heal with a soft glow, the scrapes disappearing. 

“Woah,” Dean says softly, and he looks up with wide eyes and catches Castiel’s gaze. He swallows, a little breathless. The color of Castiel’s eyes matches his tail. They’re deep, and perplexing, and remind Dean of the smell of sea breeze and something else that makes the hair on his arms prickle. The ocean. “That was…. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Castiel says seriously, dropping his hands back into the water. Realizing he still has his own hands held out, Dean drops them back to his knees. 

“What - what else can you do?” 

Castiel shrugs. “Not very much. I can manipulate small currents. I can make a few big waves if I really put my mind to it, but I’m not very good at it. Compared to some of my brothers and sisters, that isn’t very impressive. I could never make a storm like that.”

“Wait. That storm, that was them?”

“Yes.” Dean isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he thinks for a moment that Castiel looks sheepish.

“What made them wanna do that?” 

Castiel averts his eyes. “Well - ”

Just then, the motion light flicks on from around the side of the motel. Dean whips around, and catches movement through the boards of the fence. 

“Who’s out here?” Booms a stern voice, and Dean’s heart hammers. Rufus. He must’ve been working the night shift at the front desk. 

Dean spins back to Castiel and shoos frantically at him. “ _Hide,_ ” he hisses urgently.

Castiel’s eyes are wide, and for the first time he looks afraid. “Are you leaving?” He whispers back. 

“You have to hide! Quick, go under the water - ” Dean makes to stand up but Castiel grabs his wrist, his grip fierce. 

“Will you come back tomorrow?” 

“ _Yes_ , I promise, now _hide_ , before Rufus comes back here - ” Castiel finally nods and does as he’s told, Dean’s wrist sliding out of his grasp as he slips off the ledge and into the water with hardly a sound. Dean loses sight of him between all the debris and he stands just as Rufus shoulders through the gate. 

“Dean,” Rufus says as he catches sight of him, coming up short on the deck. “Shit, boy, I thought one a’ them brats from that shithole across the street snuck in here again.”

‘That shithole’ Rufus refers to is the trailer park across the street, where he happens to live. 

“Uh, no, just me. I was just - ” Dean rubs at the back of his neck and glances at the pool. “Checking out the damage.”

“Who you talkin’ to? Thought I heard voices,” Rufus says, sauntering up to the edge to stand by Dean.

Dean is wracking his brain for something to say to that when he’s saved by Rufus letting out a low whistle, looking down at the water. 

“Shit, boy,” he draws the curse out long, pronouncing it in two syllables - _shee-it_. “Hell of a storm, huh?” 

“Yeah…” Dean scans the pool for any sign of Castiel, but sees nothing. 

“Well, kid,” Rufus slaps him on the back. “Looks like we got ourselves a busy day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. Presses a thumb between his ribs. “We do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS - whoever can guess where this is set gets a cookie. More clues to come. :)


	2. benny's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Charli for being a wonderful beta for this chapter. xo

By the time Dean gets to Bobby’s, he’s mostly convinced himself that everything from the night before had just been an insane dream brought up by his subconscious because of the storm. When he had finally dragged himself from bed after a fitful couple hours of sleep, he showered and dressed quickly, grabbed a bagel from the kitchen without bothering to toast it, ruffled Sammy’s hair, and left. He went straight to the car, not making any pit stops around the corner to the pool or even glancing in its direction.

On the road, he cranked the windows all the way down and he didn’t think about seaweed, or big blue eyes, or a glimmering tail and the way a deep voice had said, ‘Dean’.

He just gripped the steering wheel, taking comfort in the familiar rumble of the engine. 

It’s nearing ten o’clock now and he’s elbow-deep in the engine of the Roadrunner and he doesn’t even hear the screen door slam as Bobby comes outside. It isn’t until a can of coke is slapped down on the roof of the car that Dean finally jumps, startled, and extricates himself from the car to stand upright. 

“You’re untraining my guard dog, boy,” Bobby grouches, but with no real threat behind his grumbling. 

Grubby cap pulled low over his eyes, and poly-fill vest faded after probably decades of being worn, Bobby Singer epitomizes the archetype of an old crank. Living alone in a salvage yard with an ‘attack dog’ doesn’t help, but Dean’s known since he was a kid how much of a softy Bobby really is. It was only in the last couple years that Dean had grown out of calling him ‘Uncle’. 

Dean glances at Frazier. The mastiff lies flat at Dean’s feet, chain lying unclipped several yards away. The dog doesn’t even bother lifting his head. 

Dean snorts. “That dog was never trained, Bobby, and you know it.” He takes the coke and cracks it open, giving Bobby a grateful nod before taking a swig. 

“Yeah, not after meeting you and your brother, that’s for sure.” Bobby mumbles, and he peers under the hood. “How’s she lookin’?” 

“Uh, still won’t start,” Dean scratches at the back of his head. “I’ve got a list of reasons why, and I’m working through it. We might need to order a few things.” 

“Sure,” Bobby nods. “Just let me know what.” 

Although he’s been working on this car for almost a month now, Dean still feels a rush of gratitude towards Bobby. He wouldn’t even _have_ the car to fix up if it weren’t for him, and certainly not the tools and parts to do it with. A graduation present is what Bobby had called it when he’d pulled the tarp off the old thing those weeks ago. Dean had stuttered at him like an idiot and at first had refused to take the gift, but Bobby insisted. 

“Listen, you don’t have to keep it once you’ve got it runnin’,” Bobby had said. “I know you’ve been driving your daddy’s Impala, and you’ll never part with the damn thing, but this’ll be good experience for you, fixin’ it up. Then you can sell it, or trash it, I don’t care.”

“Bobby - wow - I don’t know, I - ” Dean had run his hand over its hood, gaping at it. It was rusted to shit and even missing a damn door, and he had no idea the last time the thing was roadworthy, but the idea of putting it back together again started a feverish buzz in him. He swallowed. “My dad, he - he won’t let me take this, Bobby, you know how he is about - you know, I don’t know - ”

“All your daddy’s gotta know is that you’re workin’ for me, same as always. And if you’ve got a few extra hours between runnin’ my errands you might as well see what you can do with this junker, right?” 

Dean had nodded, his throat tight, and had gripped Bobby’s shoulder rather than try and find any words to express his gratitude. 

Sipping his coke, Dean leans a forearm against the edge of the open hood and gazes in at the engine, running through a few diagnostics in his head. 

“So, your brother done with school now, too?” Bobby asks.

“This is his last week,” Dean swirls the last of his coke around in the bottom of the can. 

“What’s his plan for the summer?”

“Dunno. Nerd stuff, I guess.” 

“Hm,” Bobby grunts, and then is quiet. Dean suddenly feels wary, and he knows Bobby’s got something on his mind. “Everything okay over at the Bunker?”

“Yeah. Things’re fine,” Dean says shortly. 

“Your old man around?”

Dean picks at a spot of rust, avoids Bobby’s eye. “He was gone a couple days, but he’s probably back by now. He had to go pick up some stuff for Memorial Day weekend or something, I don’t know. Didn’t really ask.” He never bothers asking anymore. 

“Right,” Bobby says, and Dean doesn’t have to see his face to note the disapproval in his voice. “Big weekend, huh?” 

“Yeah, it gets pretty busy,” Dean says, trying to keep his tone light. His fingers twitch with the urge to rub at the side of his ribcage.

“Well,” Bobby says, and Dean knows he’s refraining from saying more, from asking something that will make Dean’s stomach twist painfully - something like, _‘so, have you thought about your plan?’_ or _‘you respond back yet?’_ or _‘your stomach been botherin’ you?’_ Bobby’s learned by now that asking that last question doesn’t really help things.

“You just make a list of parts, alright, kid? And if there’s anything else you need,” he pauses, but Dean doesn’t look over at him, “you let me know, right?”

“Yeah, Bobby. Thanks again.” 

“Sure, kid. I’ll be inside. Hang out as long you like,” he claps Dean on the shoulder and moves back towards the house. “Tell your brother I say hi. And chain that damn dog back up ‘fore you leave!” 

The screen door smacks shut behind him. 

Dean sighs, and with one last glance over the engine of the Roadrunner, he closes the hood. Not much more he can do today, until he gets parts in. He sinks down into the dirt next to Frazier, who shifts to rest his heavy head on Dean’s knee. Reaching over, Dean drags the chain over the gravel and clips it back onto the dog’s collar. 

“Dog,” Dean addresses him, scratching his head. His tail thumps. “You’ve got no responsibilities, you know that? Seriously, you’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

Frazier licks at Dean’s wrist, and even though he slobbers over Dean’s jeans, it makes him smile. 

His smile disappears pretty quickly when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He doesn’t have to check the caller ID to know it’s John. 

“Hello?” 

“You tell Bobby you’ve got a mess to clean up at home, and you get your ass back here pronto, boy. We’re draining the goddamn pool.” 

Dean freezes. 

All of the memories from the night before come flooding back, and all of the convincing that Dean had done that everything was a dream goes crumbling. 

The seaweed floating across the surface of the water, the soft splash of a powerful tail, dark hair and blue eyes and an open expression, the feeling of long, wet fingers around his wrist and the muffled feeling of being out at sea with no shore in sight - 

And _they’re draining the pool._

“You hear me, Dean? You better be on your way. We’ve already started.” 

He feels like he can’t take a breath. “Yes, sir,” he gasps. 

He’s back in the Impala with the engine running before he even knows he’s gotten off the ground. 

***

Dean almost tears the gate off its hinges, trying to crash through it before getting the code put in. He notices someone hung the sign that reads _Closed Until Further Notice - We Apologize for any Inconvenience._ The gate beeps open and he scrambles through and onto the pool deck. 

There’s Rufus, resting a leg casually as the drain pump loudly chugs water from the pool. Out of breath, Dean rushes up to the edge. The pool’s already half empty. 

“Hey, kid,” Rufus calls across from the other side. 

Dean scans the water frantically with his eyes, but sees nothing. No dark-haired merman. No Castiel. Just cloudy ocean water, scattered with detritus. 

“Shit, you okay? You look like someone’s crapped in your cheerios,” Rufus chuckles at his own joke. 

“No, I’m - I’m fine,” Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, not taking his eyes from the pool. “You, um… you haven’t found anything - weird? In the pool?” 

“You bet your ass I did,” Rufus says, and Dean’s head snaps up. “A damn _diaper._ Nearly clogged this thing.” He kicks at the pump. 

“Oh,” is all Dean manages to say to that. 

“Dean,” John comes out of the motel, sliding the door shut behind himself. “What are you standing around for? This shit’s not gonna pick itself up.” 

Dean swallows. “Yes, sir.” 

He glances around, and his eyes fall on an umbrella, lying broken on the ground. It’s the same one that he remembers seeing last night, red with a logo of one of the hotels from several blocks away, and it feels like he’s been splashed with cold water. He saw that umbrella last night, he’s sure of it. And if he wasn’t dreaming about the umbrella, he wasn’t dreaming about Castiel.

So where is he? 

“ _Dean_ ,” John barks, making Dean jump and look up at him. His dad’s standing with his arms outstretched incredulously, and Dean realizes he has yet to make a move. 

“Sorry,” Dean springs into action, grabbing the umbrella off the deck and making for the trash. 

Dean’s distracted as he works, eliciting snapped orders from John that get more and more exasperated, which is never good. But Dean can’t focus on helping his dad hammer new boards back onto the fence, his gaze constantly returning to the pool over his shoulder. In an hour, Rufus has it completely drained, leaving only sand and some trash at the bottom. 

Certainly no mermen. How does a guy with a tail get out of a pool and just disappear? 

“If you’re just planning on sitting with a thumb up your ass while I do all the work here, Dean, you can find another job to do,” John grounches, and Dean catches himself spacing out with the hammer hanging loosely from one hand, and he feels his cheeks heat embarrassingly. 

“Uh. Sorry,” Dean clears his throat and reaches for another board. 

“How ‘bout you go sweep out the pool,” John suggests, speaking over the sound of himself hammering in a nail and not looking in Dean’s direction. 

“Okay,” Dean puts the hammer down and straightens up. 

Even empty, the pool kinda gives him the creeps. His footsteps echo around the walls of the deep end, the ledge high above his head. 

He sweeps quickly, making a pile of wet sand and sodden junk. Vaguely, he hears the muted tones of Rufus and his dad from out of sight, but for the most part it feels isolated surrounded by the high concrete walls and the smell of ocean water mixed with chlorine. It makes him shiver. 

Rationally, he knows he’s not in danger standing at the bottom of the dry pool. What, he’s gonna _drown_ without any water? 

So why does he feel so nervous all of a sudden? His sweeping slows, and he stills. No, he’s being ridiculous. He breathes. He’s fine. 

But what if a huge wave comes, and he’s down here, where it’ll fill before he can scramble out? 

Or it downpours, and the water comes rushing down the incline to where he stands at the deepest point? 

He looks up at the sky, which is clear and cloudless, but he can’t shake the feeling - water lapping over his shoes, then up to his calves before he knows it. 

His breath is caught in his chest, and he rubs roughly against his sternum. 

_I’m okay,_ he thinks, even as he struggles more and more, losing the fight to stay calm. _I’m okay, I’m okay._

Fuck, he really can’t breathe. He’s inhaling water into his lungs, and he’s going to die. He’s going to drown -

He needs _out._

The broom hits the cement with a clatter that reverberates around the walls, and in four long strides Dean reaches the shallow end and hoists himself out of the pool onto shaky legs. 

“Uh - dustpan,” he stutters to John and Rufus with a wave of his hand when they glance at him, and he makes a beeline for the shed. 

Out of the pool, where he can’t hear his breath echoing back at him, it’s easier to think. 

He’s okay. That was just some dumb overreaction, probably because he got hardly any sleep the night before. 

Dean yanks the shed door open and staggers in. He leans back against the wall and pulls in gulps of air. 

He counts his breaths, and resists the urge to wrap his arms around his middle. His stomach starts to loosen from the knot it had worked itself into, and he can finally take in a breath that actually feels like air filling his lungs, and not ice water. 

Something clatters at the back of the shed, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin when someone steps out of the shadows. 

“Dean!” 

It’s the voice that he couldn’t get out of his head all day, and it sounds relieved. 

“Wha - Castiel?” Dean blinks in the low light, trying to understand what he’s seeing.

“You came back,” Castiel says. 

“Of course I did. I said I would - dude, how did you get in here?”

“With _these._ ” Castiel steps into the rectangle of light from the door. He’s grinning broadly, and standing on two very human legs, and he’s completely naked.

“ _Woah_ , man!” Dean half spins, looking up and away, his ears heating up. 

“I know!” Castiel says excitedly, obviously misinterpreting Dean’s exclamation. “ _Legs!_ ” 

“Yeah, I - I see them. Listen, man, we gotta get you outta here, okay?” Dean starts rummaging for something that Castiel can cover himself with. “My dad can’t see you. Especially not - like that.”

“I’d always heard the stories that if we allowed our tails to dry out, they’d become legs, but I never had the gills to try it.” 

Dean hums distractedly in response, and finally comes up successfully with a towel that he pulls out of the bottom of a bin. It’s dusty, but it’ll do. 

“Here. Put this around you.” Dean straightens up and hands it out to Castiel, who doesn’t take it immediately. Instead, he grabs Dean by the shoulder and looks into his eyes seriously, eagerness in his gaze. 

“It’s not only that,” he says conspiratorially. “ _Look._ ” 

Dean makes the mistake of following his gaze south, where Castiel looks down at himself. Hastily looking away again, Dean feels himself blushing even more furiously than before. 

“Yeah, I saw that. That’s very - neat.” He tries again to shove the towel at him, and this time Castiel takes it. “Wrap that around yourself, will you?” 

“It’s _huge_.” 

Dean can’t help but laugh at that, though he’s quick to muffle it. “Cover up, Casanova. Geez.”

Castiel frowns a little in confusion but finally does as he’s told as Dean peeks out the door. John and Rufus have their backs turned, both looking at the fence. 

“Alright, the coast is clear. Listen. You follow me, okay? We gotta be quick, and quiet.” He turns back to find Castiel nodding at him seriously, gripping the towel around his waist. 

With one more glance out the door, Dean grabs Castiel’s arm. 

“ _Now_.”

He tugs him out of the shed, careful not to bump anything, and together they make a break for the motel. A glimpse over his shoulder tells him they’re still in the clear and he pulls the slider open and shoves Castiel inside, following behind and shutting the door after them. 

Thankfully, the lobby’s empty. Dean doesn’t remember who was on the schedule to work the front desk, but all that matters is there’s no one there now.

“This way,” Dean hisses and drags Castiel across the lobby and through the ‘Employees Only’ door. Down the short hall, and into the apartment. Luckily, John had left it unlocked. 

“You can hang out in my room for a little while, but don’t leave, okay?” 

“Where are you going?” Castiel asks as Dean shoulders through the door into his bedroom.

“I have to finish helping with the clean-up. _Stay here._ Got it?” Dean turns to Castiel with his eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. 

“Okay,” Castiel’s eyes travel around Dean’s bedroom.

It’s tiny, just enough room for a dresser, nightstand, and bed, which is just a mattress on the floor, but Dean keeps everything in its place to avoid it getting crowded. 

“You need pants,” Dean digs through his drawers and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. Castiel promptly drops his towel, and Dean turns away quickly. 

“Geez, man.” 

“ _Pants_ ,” Castiel sounds absolutely gleeful from behind Dean. “Wow.”

When he feels he’s given him enough time to cover up, Dean turns back around. “They fit okay?”

“They’re wonderful,” Castiel beams. “They’re very comfortable.” 

They actually look a little loose around Castiel’s narrow waist, but Dean tries not to think about it, or look for too long. They’ll work fine. 

“Um. You’re welcome to read my books, or something, if you’d like,” Dean gestures at the stack on the nightstand, but Castiel isn’t paying attention. 

“Is this your bed?” 

“Yeah. It’s kinda shitty, the mattress is old, but - ”

Castiel collapses onto it, immediately nesting into Dean’s many blankets and pillows. He groans, and the sound brings heat to Dean’s face. 

“It’s amazing. I haven’t slept in many hours,” Castiel’s eyes are already closed. 

“Oh. Alright, yeah, you uh - you nap. I’m gonna finish up outside, and I’ll be back. Just _don’t_ leave here. Got it?” Dean reaches for the door, and Castiel nods with a muffled reply that Dean doesn’t quite catch but assumes is in the affirmative. 

He takes a deep breath, and he leaves the sleepy merman napping in his bed, wearing his own favorite sweatpants on his brand new legs. 

What the hell. 

Back outside, Dean blames his absence on the bathroom, but John just shakes his head and turns away from from him, barking directions over his shoulder. 

Dean works quickly, trying to get things wrapped up, but it still takes the three of them almost two hours to get the place looking like it’s supposed to. The fence gets fixed, the deck is swept, and the pool gets cleaned enough to be refilled. 

“I think Dean should start refilling it now, and should sit out here and wait ‘til it’s done,” John says as the three of them stand at the edge, Rufus getting the hose fixed into place. Dean can feel the weight of his dad’s gaze on him, but he keeps his eyes down. “What do you think, Rufus?” 

Rufus laughs as he straightens up, but Dean doesn’t think his dad’s joking. It’ll take probably fourteen hours for the thing to be full. 

“Don’t worry about it, John,” Rufus says. “I’ll run the hose a couple’a hours tonight, and then I’ve got all day tomorrow. I can let it run while I do some shit around here.” 

John grunts, and Dean doesn’t relax until his dad turns away from him. 

“Boy needs to learn a little bit about responsibility,” Dean hears John mutter, but he knows the best thing for him to do about that is keep his mouth shut.

“Do you need me to do anything else, Dad?” Dean keeps his voice as level as possible. 

“No. But I want you on call tomorrow in case I need somethin’, you hear me? I’m still pissed about this fucking pool.” 

“Yes, sir.” Dean’s already backing towards the motel. 

“So answer your fucking phone if I call you.” John raises his eyebrows, and Dean doesn’t say what he wants to, which is _‘I always answer my fucking phone.’_

He says, “Yes, sir.” 

As soon as John’s attention leaves him, Dean’s gone, darting through the slider and back inside. 

He bursts into his room to find Castiel sat on the floor, a blanket around his shoulders and several of Dean’s things spread around him; books, cassette tapes, a couple car magazines, more than a few pairs of socks. 

Castiel looks up as Dean barges in. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, looking at the absolute mess of his room. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Oh, I was looking through some of your things,” Castiel says simply. “Is it normal for humans to own so many pairs of socks? I’d think you have a lot more than two feet by all these.”

“They get dirty after a day.”

“Hm.” Castiel’s stomach rumbles loudly, and Dean can’t help but smile. 

“You hungry?”

“I’m starving,” Castiel nods up at him. 

“Let’s go get something to eat. I know the perfect place.”

Grinning, Castiel jumps up, letting the blanket fall. “I would love to,” he says, and he makes for the door. 

“Wait - ” Dean catches his wrist. “You need a shirt. And underwear.” 

***

Castiel absolutely gawks at the Impala as they get into it, and Dean smiles in satisfaction at that. 

“This is what a car looks like?” Castiel runs a reverent palm over the roof. 

“This is what a car should look like,” Dean says, and opens the door for him when Castiel doesn’t look like he’s going to. “Here, get in.”

Castiel’s eyes widen comically when the Impala roars to life, and Dean smirks. 

“Is this car yours?” 

“She’s my dad’s. But he’s got a truck now, so he lets me drive her.”

The drive to Benny’s Diner isn’t long, but Dean finally has to bat Castiel’s hand away from the buttons on the dashboard after he switches the radio station for the tenth time. 

“When did you learn how to drive cars?” Castiel asks.

“My dad taught me when I was ten or so,” Dean flicks on his blinker and pulls into the parking lot. “But I couldn’t get my license ‘til I was sixteen.”

“How old are you now?”

“Eighteen,” Dean pulls into a spot and turns to look at Castiel. “How old are you?”

“Seventy-seven.”

Dean does a double take. “ _What?_ Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” Castiel says, and it sounds funny in his overly-serious voice. 

“Is that like... young? For mermen?”

Castiel shrugs. “Many of my brothers and sisters are over two hundred. My family considers me a juvenile most of the time. Other times, though, they expect a lot of me.” A frown forms between his eyebrows, but it clears quickly and Dean isn’t sure if he really saw it. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I know how that feels.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean and their eyes catch. There’s something in his expression that Dean thinks he recognizes, something he understands subliminally but can’t put his finger on. Castiel gazes at him for a long moment, until finally Dean clears his throat. 

“Um. Come on, let’s go in.”

Benny’s Diner sits on the western bay side of the coastal highway, about ten blocks closer to the inlet than the Bunker. Though it’s usually more crowded and more touristy closer to the end, near the amusement rides that occupy the most southern tip of the strip, the action tends to stay on the ocean side of the highway. Benny’s, on the other hand, is nestled down a side street that extends out into the bay, and it’s mostly inhabited by townies and regulars - just how Dean likes it. 

The building is small, and built to look like an old fishing shack, with ropes and buoys strung along the outside for decoration. The paint’s a bit faded, but it just adds to the charm. Dean’s not sure how long Benny’s owned the place, or if it was here the first time they lived here or not. 

Inside, Dean spots Benny behind the counter.

“Hey, Benny,” Dean says with a wave. 

Benny looks up from where he’s pouring a customer a coffee and smiles. “Dean-o! Haven’t seen you around in a while, brotha’,” he drawls.

“I missed the place, man. You mind if we sit outside?”

Benny nods towards the back door. “Help yourself. I’ll meet y’all out there with menus.” 

Dean leads Cas onto the back deck, which overlooks the water. It’s a little late for lunch, and there’s only one other table taken by patrons. Choosing his favorite table on the far side next to the railing, Dean sits and watches Castiel settle into the chair across from him, and how he gazes around with wide eyes, taking everything in. 

Benny comes through the door and makes his way over to them with a couple of glasses of water and some menus. 

“Meg’s the server out here, but I told her I’d take care of y’all.” 

Dean’s silently grateful about that - he never got along well with Meg. Benny sets everything on the table and looks at Castiel appraisingly. 

“Oh, Benny, this is Castiel,” Dean introduces. 

Benny nods at him. “Nice to meet ya, brotha’. You new around here?”

“No. I’ve lived off this coast for several decades,” Castiel deadpans. 

Benny looks confused, and Dean splutters on his water and sets his glass down too hard, making them both turn to stare at him.

“He, uh - he’s from up north. Cape Henlopen area. Just moved down here, across the street from the Bunker. I’m showing him around.” Dean nods, trying to look convincing. 

“Alright,” Benny says slowly, sounding a little skeptical. He glances back at Castiel, who stares at Dean a beat longer before turning and giving Benny a smile. “Well, welcome to the white marlin capital, then.” 

“Thank you,” Castiel says politely. 

“Do y’all need a few minutes with the menu? I know you probably don’t, Dean,” Benny says. 

“Yeah, Benny, I think I’ll just get the usual,” Dean looks to Castiel. “Do you - ”

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Castiel says. “Please.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Benny collects their menus back. “I’ll have that out in a few min’.” 

“Thanks, Benny,” Dean nods at him as he walks away. When he turns back to Castiel, he finds him staring. “What?”

“I like him. He seems kind.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Benny’s a good guy.” 

Castiel just continues to peer at him. 

“So,” Dean clears his throat. “Is that true, what you said? You’ve lived around here that long?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “My whole life, virtually. We migrate, but not far. My family always returns to these waters.” 

“So how come no one’s ever seen you?”

“You’re seeing me now.”

Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

“We’re very discreet,” Castiel shrugs. “At least, we’re supposed to be.” 

“So you, um, being here,” Dean says. “Is that a problem?” 

Castiel looks away, out over the water. “It’s not ideal. Not preferred, I guess is a better word.” 

Dean frowns. “You’re not gonna get in trouble, are you?” He watches Castiel, who doesn’t reply for a long moment before he turns back to Dean. 

“What about you, Dean? How long have you lived here?” 

Dean regards him for a moment, but then decides to let the change of subject slide. “Almost all my life, I guess. I was born here. Well, not _here_ here. I was born like half an hour inland, in Ocean Pines. But then we - me, my brother, and my dad, we left for a long time. But we came back about six years ago.” 

“Birth waters have a very compelling draw.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dean says with half smile. 

“When you left,” Castiel says, sounding careful, “where did you go?”

Dean shifts a little in his seat. “All over, really. My dad moved us around a lot. I think it was something like twelve different states in the five years we were gone.” 

“That’s a lot of migrating,” Castiel says, and Dean nods. “I thought humans were much more prone to sedentary behavior. Why did your father feel he needed to do that?” 

Dean knew this is where this conversation would lead, but he still feels his stomach twist painfully. Keeping his eyes on where he’s swirling the ice around his glass with his straw, Dean pokes a finger between his ribs with the other hand. 

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Well, my mom died. It was hard on my dad.” Understatement. 

“Oh,” Castiel says. “I’m very sorry.” 

He sounds so sincere that Dean can’t help but glance up at him, but he _looks_ so sincere that Dean has to avert his eyes again.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, and it feels a little out of control even to him. “It was a long time ago, though. And then we came back, and my dad bought the motel, so we’re here for good I guess.” He doesn’t mean to sound as bitter as he does. 

“Well, I’m glad that you’re back,” Castiel says, and Dean looks up, a little puzzled at that. He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted when someone comes up to their table. 

“Well, well, well,” Meg drawls, hands on her hips. “Fancy seeing you here, Dean-o.”

“Meg,” Dean says distastefully. 

“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” she says, and Dean shifts away from her when she rests a hand on the back of his chair and leans on one leg to face Castiel. Dean doesn’t like the predatory gleam in her eye as she looks him up and down. “Who’s your handsome friend?”

“My name is Castiel.” 

“Cas-ti-el,” she says slowly. “Interesting name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Meg. You new around here?” 

Dean scoots his chair away from her and she sneers at him, but lets go of it and stands up straight, which was his desired outcome. 

“Um,” Castiel glances at Dean, looking uncertain. “I’m from ‘up north,’” he says, a bit awkwardly. 

“Well,” Meg leans toward him. “If you need someone to play tour guide, I bet I could show you a good time,” she says lecherously. 

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“I mean, a better time than Dean here’s showing you, that’s for sure,” she points to Dean with a thumb over her shoulder. 

“Dean is showing me quite an enjoyable time, actually.” 

Meg’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, is he now?” 

“Shut up, Meg,” Dean says. 

“Touchy, I get it,” Meg glances over her shoulder and sees Benny coming out with their food. “Well, if you’re ever interested in a third, you know where to find me.” 

Smirking, she flips her dark hair over her shoulder and struts away to check on the other table. 

“Ignore her,” Dean mutters. “She’s a bitch.” 

“Alrigh’, boys,” Benny comes up and sets their plates in front of them. “Two bacon cheeseburgers, hold the tomato, extra onion straws for ya’.” 

“Thanks, Benny.” Dean’s mouth waters as he looks down at the food. 

“Thank you,” Cas says. 

“Holler if ya need somethin’,” Benny says before leaving them to their burgers. 

Castiel peeks under the bun. “What exactly is this?” 

Dean bursts out with a laugh. “Right. You’ve probably never had a burger before.” 

“A burger?” 

“Yeah, a cheeseburger. With bacon. It’s cow, with pig on top. It’s delicious, try it.” Dean picks up his own burger and takes a huge bite. “You’re not a vegetarian or somethin’, are you?” He asks around his full mouth. 

“Technically, in your language I would be called a pescetarian. Not by choice, though.” He picks up his own burger, watches Dean take another bite, and follows his lead. 

Castiel’s eyes go wide and he moans. Dean almost chokes at the sound, and he feels the tips of his ears heat up. 

“This is delicious,” Castiel says emphatically. 

Dean composes himself and smiles. 

Castiel practically inhales his food, and Dean’s actually sort of impressed. He could give Dean himself a run for his money, he has to admit. Dean passes him the ketchup for his fries, which Castiel uses to drown them in, and though it’s kind of gross Dean can’t help but find it sort of endearing. 

“So,” Dean says after Benny’s dropped off their check and they’re finishing the last of their fries. “The legs. How long have you got ‘em for?” 

Castiel shrugs. “I’ll have them as long as I keep them dry, as I understand it. If they get wet at all, they’ll return to a tail.” 

“Switching back and forth, that’s okay? It won’t, like, mess you up or anything?” 

“I’m not really sure,” Cas sips from his straw. “As far as I know, it’s been a very long time since any of my kind has been on land. I’ve only heard stories.”

While he’s awed by the guy’s guts, Dean can’t help but be a little confused. “It took some balls, then, for you to be here,” he says. “What made you choose to come on land, though?”

“I didn’t choose,” Castiel says, too quickly. Dean’s eyebrows quirk. “I was washed up, in the storm. Remember?” 

“Oh,” Dean says after a moment. “Right. Well, what made you want to stay?”

Castiel squints out over the water for so long that Dean thinks he might change the subject again, or maybe simply not answer. Finally, though, he shrugs and his eyes meet Dean’s. 

“I just want to see what it’s like here. That’s all.” 

Dean searches Castiel’s face, but his expression is kept carefully blank. 

“Alright,” Dean says. 

He thinks Castiel’s a terrible liar.


	3. speed of light

After leaving Benny’s, Dean and Castiel drive around for a while, and Dean shows him some of the town’s attractions. They had both waved to Benny as they’d left, who’d waved back with a “See y’all soon. Nice t’meet ya, Castiel.” When Castiel had raised a hand to wave to Meg, Dean had shoved his arm down and ushered him out of the diner. 

They drive past the water park on 30th street, which Castiel seems intrigued by (“Well, shit, I guess you can’t really go to a water park, can you?”) along with a few of the countless places for mini golf (“It’s actually pretty boring, but that place there gives us free games because they have a picture of Sammy in their advertisement from like five years ago.”) 

Dean stops at a light and a family of four make their way across the coastal highway, loaded with beach bags and chairs. He glances at Castiel to his right, who has his eyes closed and his face tipped towards the sun, arm out the window. Dean catches himself smiling a little and looks away, the light turning green. 

“Hey,” Dean says, and Castiel looks over at him. “Maybe we could go down to the boardwalk, if you want to. There are rides down there, and it’s great for people watching. Sammy would probably wanna come, he likes the arcade.” 

“Who’s Sammy?” Castiel asks. “You’ve mentioned him a few times.”

“Oh,” Dean grins. “He’s my kid brother. He’s probably home from school by now, you can meet him.” 

Back at the Bunker, Dean parks beside his dad’s truck outside of the apartment. The two of them get out and Dean leads the way to the door. Before they get there, though, Dean sees someone waving at them in his peripheral vision and he turns. 

One of their regulars, Miss Moseley, is sitting in the chair that she keeps under the portico outside of her usual room, number seven. 

Dean tips his head to indicate to Cas that they change course, and they approach her. 

“Hi, Missouri,” Dean says politely. “How are you?”

“I’m just fine, Dean, I’m just fine,” Missouri says in her feather-light voice as she adjusts her shawl on her shoulders. “I wanted to say congratulations, dear, on your graduation.”

“Oh,” Dean rubs the back of his neck and smiles a little sheepishly. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

“I have something for you, as a matter of fact,” she says, and she stands. 

“Wha - no, Missouri, I can’t take anything from you - ”

“Nonsense, boy,” she waves a hand at him and disappears into her room. Dean looks at Cas, who appears unfazed. 

They only stand there a short moment before Missouri’s back, holding a small object wrapped in brown paper that she proffers to Dean. 

“Now, you’ll take this, boy, because you deserve it,” she says in her most stern voice, and she takes Dean’s hand and closes his fingers around it before he can object. “You make sure you hang it up, alright? It won’t work unless it’s hung. Now, who’s this?” She turns to Castiel, attention completely diverted from Dean, indicating that’s the end of that. 

“Um, this is Castiel,” Dean says, and he steps out of the way so Castiel can come forward as Missouri holds out her hand to shake. 

“Hello,” Castiel says. He deliberates for a second, looking from Missouri’s outstretched hand to Dean, who gives a tiny nod and a pointed look towards Missouri to indicate for him to shake it. Finally, he does, allowing Missouri to envelop his hand in both of hers. 

“Castiel,” she says. “What a curious name.”

As soon as their hands touch, Missouri stills. Her eyes flick up to Castiel’s face and her lips part slightly in what looks like wonder. While Dean is sort of used to Missouri’s eccentric nature and sometimes long stares, when it’s directed at him he can never shake the feeling that he’s being x-rayed. This exchange, however, is the weirdest he’s seen. 

Castiel, who has shown has no problem with staring, looks calmly back at Missouri as she studies him. They regard one another for so long that Dean finally shifts from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. 

“Well,” Dean says haltingly. “We should go. I’ve gotta make sure Sammy’s gotten home okay and has eaten something.” 

Dean looks from Missouri to Castiel and back before she finally releases Castiel’s hand.

“Of course,” she says, but continues to peer at him. “You tell little Sam I say hello, now.”

“I will,” Dean says. “Thank you again for the gift.”

“Oh, dear, it was nothing,” she smiles. “You need it more than I do.”

“It was very nice to meet you, ma’am,” Castiel says, nodding politely. 

“You too, Castiel. You boys feel free to come by any time, now.” 

“Yes, ma’am, we will,” Dean says, and they finally turn to go. 

They only get a few steps before Missouri adds, “You boys stay hydrated, you hear?” 

And though she addresses both of them, her eyes stay on Castiel. Dean gives her one last wave and smile and makes a break for the apartment, Castiel close behind. 

“Who was she?” Castiel asks as they tread through the door, Dean closing it behind them. 

“Just one of our regulars. She’s here almost all year round. Gives palm readings and tells fortunes and stuff - kinda creepy, if you ask me. But she’s real nice.”

“Hm.”

“Yo, Sammy!” Dean calls, tossing the Impala’s keys into the dish on the end table in the hallway, and making his way towards the bedrooms. 

“In my room,” Sam calls back. 

Dean stops in his own bedroom briefly to set Missouri’s gift on his dresser, and then he and Castiel go to Sam’s.

“Sam, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Dean pushes Sam’s door open and steps in, Castiel following. “This is Castiel. He just moved in across the street.”

Sam looks up from where he sits at his desk, pushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes with a hand. Kid needs a haircut, bad. 

“Hi,” Sam says, setting down his pencil. 

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel says pleasantly. “Dean’s told me a bit about you.” 

Sam glances at Dean, who smirks. “Nothing about how big of a nerd you are, don’t worry,” he says. 

Sam rolls his eyes, but he smiles. “Sorry you got stuck with this jerk,” he says to Castiel. “It’s nice to meet you. Where’d you move from?” 

Castiel opens his mouth, but Dean speaks before he does. “Cape Henlopen area.”

“What’s in here?” Castiel asks, and moves across the room to bend down and peer into Sam’s fish tank. 

“That’s Bones, my goldfish. I don’t think he’s feeling well. So did you just graduate, too?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, he did,” Dean says before Castiel can reply, and he plops down on Sam’s bed. “What are you working on? You can’t possibly have homework the night before your last day.” 

“It’s extra credit.” 

Dean shakes his head and scoffs, opening his mouth to say something rude but Sam’s glare shuts him down. He raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Bones is hiding,” Castiel says, frowning at the tank. 

“Yeah, he hasn’t come out of his cave in like three days. I’ve been worried about him.” Sam watches Castiel tap at the tank for a moment before turning to Dean, suddenly looking suspicious. 

“Dean, how come he’s wearing your clothes?”

“Oh,” Dean’s face blazes. Looking back, he realizes he probably shouldn’t have dressed Castiel in a faded t-shirt and jeans that he wears himself often enough to be recognized.

“He, um - well - ” Dean averts his eyes from Sam’s skeptical look, just as Castiel tips open the mesh lid to the fishtank and reaches a hand inside. “Woah, Cas, don’t - ”

He jumps up, reaching out to grab Castiel’s arm, but it’s too late. He’s got his hand all the way down into the fish tank before Dean can do anything about it. 

“Um, Castiel, what are you doing?” Sam’s out of his chair as well, hurrying over to the tank. 

Sam and Dean look into the water at the same time, and both gasp. 

As they watch, Castiel coaxes Bones out of his little rock cave. The small, orange fish swims out hesitantly, approaching Castiel’s fingers and apparently checking them out. 

“What the fuck,” Sam whispers, and Dean elbows him sharply. 

“ _Language_ , Sammy, Jesus,” he admonishes, but he can’t take his eyes from what’s happening. The fish swims around Castiel’s hand, weaving through his fingers. 

“He doesn’t like this light,” Castiel says, and with the hand not dunked in the water, he pushes Sam’s lamp away so it’s not shining into the tank. “There. He should be a lot happier now.” 

Apparently satisfied, Castiel gently pulls his hand from the tank and wipes it carefully on his (Dean’s) shirt, and straightens up to smile at Sam and Dean. 

Sam is absolutely gaping at him, his mouth hanging open. Composing himself quickly, Dean clears his throat.

“Um - Castiel’s family, they’re really into fish. They, like, have a bunch of tanks and stuff.” 

“In a trailer park?” Sam says dubiously. 

“Well, had a bunch of tanks. They don’t anymore. But they did, and they knew a lot about fish.” 

Castiel smiles and nods. “Yes,” he says awkwardly. Dean mentally smacks himself on the forehead. 

“Anyway,” Dean says quickly, trying to change the subject. “We were thinking of going to the boardwalk, you wanna come?”

“Uh… sure…” Sam looks from Castiel to Bones again, who even to Dean looks a lot happier. He’s no longer hiding, and is swimming around in his plant. 

“Cool. You hungry? Did you eat something when you got home?” 

“What?” Sam says distractedly, tearing his eyes from his fish tank to look up at Dean. “Oh, yeah. I made a sandwich, I’m good.” 

“Great. Get your shoes on, let’s go. I got cash for the bus.”

“The bus?” Sam asks incredulously, bending down and tugging on his sneakers. “Dean, let’s just drive, come on.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not taking my baby down to the inlet, Sammy. Not with the way nutjobs drive on a holiday weekend.”

“It’s _Thursday_ ,” Sam makes his best bitch face. “The holiday rush isn’t even here yet. Come on, I don’t wanna ride the bus - ”

“ _Fine_.” Dean throws up his hands and turns to leave. “We can drive. But if my baby gets scratched, I’m blaming you. Let’s go.”

“Wait, I gotta get my quarters for the arcade.” Dean rolls his eyes but waits as Sam dashes to his desk and empties his quarter jar into his pocket. 

The three of them shuffle out of Sam’s room and towards the door, Sam looking annoyingly satisfied with himself, and Castiel appearing thoroughly entertained by the entire exchange. 

As they pass the small kitchen, there’s the sound of the refrigerator closing and John turns to face them, a beer hooked between his fingers. 

“Hey, Dad,” Dean says, and taps a knuckle against the door jam. “We’re goin’ out. Is that cool?” 

“Sam’s got school in the morning, doesn’t he?” John regards the three of them in the doorway, his dark eyes passing over Sam and Dean and landing on Castiel. “Who’s your friend?” 

“It’s the last day tomorrow,” Sam says indignantly. 

“Uh, this is Castiel,” Dean says. “He lives across the street, just moved in.” His heart pounds a little. His dad’s never been super fond of any kids from ‘across the street,’ and Dean should’ve thought about that before he made up the story. 

“Hello,” Castiel says evenly. 

John grunts and nods once at him, unscrewing the cap of his beer and flicking it easily into the trash. “Be home before ten.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean and Sam reply simultaneously, and they turn and dart for the door, Castiel following. 

“That was your father?” Castiel asks as they clamber into the Impala, Sam politely choosing the back seat so Castiel can sit up front. 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, starting the car. 

“He seems…”

“Like a dick?” Sam says. 

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean snaps. “Watch your mouth. Put your fucking seatbelt on.” 

Sam grumbles, but does as he’s told, and Dean jams a finger at the power button on the radio, turning on the music. 

Traffic isn’t too bad driving down to the inlet, but all the stop lights make it take about fifteen minutes to get there. Dean drives around looking for a parking spot around Dorchester Street. 

“Have you ever been to the boardwalk here, Castiel?” Sam asks. 

“No,” Castiel says. “I’ve never been to any boardwalk.”

“Really?” Sam sounds incredulous. “Not even, like, up where you’re from? Don’t you have Funland up near there?”

“Um,” Castiel says. “I’ve seen boardwalks from afar. And sometimes I can hear the music and see the lights.”

“You’ve been missin’ out, man,” Sam says. From the front seat, Dean can hear him counting his quarters. “Wait ‘til you see this arcade, it’s awesome.” 

They park, Dean feeds the meter, and they walk up towards the boardwalk from the street. They’re only two blocks’ distance from the rides and the arcade that Sam likes, so as soon as they get up to the boardwalk, the ferris wheel is clearly visible down to their right a little ways. 

Dean glances at Castiel, who’s looking around in wonder. 

It’s not too crowded yet, as the sun isn’t supposed to set for another few hours, but there’s still plenty to see. The shops are all open, from souvenir and beachwear places, to donuts and candy kitchens. Dean watches as Castiel takes a deep breath of salty air, his eyes darting only briefly towards the ocean. 

The three of them make their way towards the ferris wheel, the beach to their left. The sand butts right up against the boardwalk, and a few people walk towards the water or back, shoes in their hands. Being about two miles south of the Bunker, the beach here is a little bit wider, the ocean a few yards further away, and while it’s obvious that the tide came up abnormally high in the storm the night before, it doesn’t look like the water came near the boardwalk, thankfully. 

“It’ll be way busier here in a month when it’s actually summer,” Dean says to Castiel. “It’s kinda touristy, so you see some interesting people.” 

“Yeah, it’s a lot better this time of year,” Sam adds. “There are a lot less lines.” 

Castiel nearly walks into someone because he turns his head to stare at a kid walking past them with cotton candy. 

“Watch it, Cas,” Dean grabs him and pulls him out of the way. 

“Oh,” Castiel says, stepping around the angry looking man. “I apologize.”

Dean chuckles. “We can get cotton candy later.” 

“Guys, c’mon!” Sam darts into the arcade, and Dean and Castiel hurry after him. 

Over the threshold of the low building, Dean feels Castiel hesitate next to him, and he turns to him. 

“You okay?” Dean calls over the sounds of music and games.

 

“Yes,” Castiel says back. “It’s loud in here.”

“It’s quieter in the back, c’mon,” Dean pulls Castiel after Sam, who makes a beeline for his favorite game, a weird one with a Spongebob theme. 

“So, what exactly is the point of this place?” Castiel asks, and Sam whips his head around. 

“What, you’ve never been to an _arcade_ , either?” When Castiel shakes his head, Sam looks at Dean in disbelief. 

“He was sheltered, Sam, cut him a break. Alright, so every machine is a different game. When you do well, it spits out tickets, and you can use those tickets to exchange for prizes. What kinds of stuff are you good at?”

“Um.” 

“Okay, watch Sammy,” Dean says. 

“You use this toggle,” Sam demonstrates. “And you catch as many jellyfish as you can. I had the high score last summer but someone beat me.” 

Castiel looks confused. 

“A talking sea sponge?” He asks dubiously. “Why is he wearing pants?” 

Thankfully Sam’s concentrating too hard to have heard that, because Dean thinks he just might’ve shit himself. 

“So not the point, Cas.” 

They watch long enough for Sam to win some tickets, and he shows Castiel how they come out of the machine and how you have to rip them off. Castiel nods studiously, taking all of this very seriously, and Dean shakes his head with an amused smile. 

“Alright, I’m gonna show him some others, Sam. Don’t leave here,” Dean warns. 

“I know,” Sam says, already immersed in the next round. 

“I’m really good at the shooting games,” Dean tells Castiel. “C’mon, there’s a two-player one we can try.” 

Castiel, it turns out, is _not_ good at shooting games. It takes him halfway through the first round just to hold the gun right, Dean shouting instructions at him while trying to keep his own character alive. Castiel wins the third round by dumb luck, but the grin on his face when he collects his three tickets makes Dean think his own loss was worth it. 

When Castiel says he’s feeling thirsty, Dean points out the water fountain and starts a one-person shooting game while he waits for him to come back. He does well, and Castiel returns to watch him excel onto level 8, where he finally loses but collects sixty-five tickets. 

“Wow,” Castiel says, sounding genuinely impressed, and Dean shrugs it off but feels his face heat a little. 

“Dean,” Castiel says as Dean is folding up his tickets, and the way his voice has turned serious makes Dean look up at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Dean says, feeling a little apprehensive. 

“I noticed, a couple times, that you called me ‘Cas,’” he says. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies slowly.

“Like, a nickname,” Castiel says with wide eyes, phrasing it almost like a question. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Is that… okay?”

“No one’s ever called me that before.” 

“Really?” Dean’s genuinely surprised. “I figured it’s a pretty natural shortening of ‘Castiel.’” 

“I like it,” Castiel says, and he smiles. 

Dean feels the corners of his own mouth lift in response. “Okay. Good.” 

They try a few other games, and find that Castiel, while not good at games that require any use of a toggle or a gun, has quite good reflexes. He finds the whack-a-mole absolutely hilarious, and Dean thinks he’d be rather good at it if he’d concentrate more, rather than stop and laugh every time he hits one. 

“Here, I think you’d be good at this one,” Dean leads him over to a game called Speed of Light, where you stand in front of a wall of buttons, and simply have to hit them as they light up. “When a button lights up, you smack it. You gotta be fast, because a few will light up at a time.” 

Dean inserts some quarters, and moves back so Castiel can step up to the game. When he doesn’t, Dean shakes his head and takes Cas by the shoulders, pushing him up into position. 

“Get ready,” Dean says, the machine counting down from five to start. 

Dean happened to be right. Castiel _is_ really good at this game. He’s fast, and intuned, and has impressive hand-eye coordination that he didn’t demonstrate as well in any of the other games. The machine counts the number of buttons you hit, and only allows three misses before you lose, but Cas is already at over a hundred and hasn’t missed one. 

“I like this game,” he says, not taking his intense stare off of it. 

Dean laughs. “Dude, you are kicking ass.” 

Sam finds them just as Castiel is passing two hundred, and his mouth falls open. 

“ _Woah_ ,” he says. “I’ve never gotten past fifty at this game. What’s the high score?” 

“Three seventy-two,” Dean says, watching intently and nervously chewing a nail. 

By the time Cas passes three hundred, Sam and Dean are practically vibrating with excitement. He’s missed two, and can only miss one more before he loses. 

“Come on, Cas, you got this!” Dean encourages. 

“You’re so close! So close!” Sam yells. 

“Three fifty - ” Dean grabs Sam’s shoulder in anticipation. 

“Three sixty-five - oh my god, he’s gonna do it!” Sam actually jumps up and down, absolutely elated. 

Castiel passes the high score of three hundred seventy-two, and Sam and Dean lose it - they grab each other and cheer, hooting and laughing as the machine goes crazy and starts spitting out tickets. 

“Oh gosh,” Castiel says in alarm. “What’s happening?” 

He falters, being practically showered in tickets as the machine flashes and makes noise, and he finally misses his third button. Sam and Dean immediately jump forward and grab him, shaking him by the shoulders and cracking up. 

“You did it!” Sam says. “That was amazing!” 

Dean laughs at Castiel’s shell-shocked expression, clapping him on the back. “You won, dude!” 

“I won,” Castiel says, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. He looks at Dean with his wide smile and Dean can’t help but beam back. 

“Look at all these tickets!” Sam exclaims, and Dean and Castiel turn to him, where he’s bending to retrieve them from the machine. “Four hundred tickets!” 

Together, they get the tickets organized enough to carry them to the counter to cash them in. 

“Wait,” Dean says before they step away. “You gotta put your name in, for the high score.” 

“What?” Castiel asks. 

“Oh yeah!” Sam says. “Type your name in. So everyone knows it’s you who has the high score.” 

“Okay,” Castiel says, passing his armful of tickets to Dean and stepping up to the machine. 

At the top of the list where it says **Speed of Light: High Score** , he very carefully types:

_C-A-S_

***

They leave the arcade still smiling, Sam talking animatedly about that being the most amount of tickets he’d ever seen, and Castiel carrying his new, gigantic, stuffed dolphin. There wasn’t much deliberation from Castiel when it came to choosing his prize. As soon as he saw the dolphin, he had to have it. He had still been short a hundred tickets for it, but Sam and Dean had pitched in what they had won and they managed to have enough between the three of them. 

“I think I need a drink,” Cas says when Sam finally takes a breath between his rambling. 

“I’m starving,” Sam pipes up. “Let’s get food, too.” 

Dean treats the three of them to hotdogs, and they sit at a table on the boardwalk to eat. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watches Castiel and notes that he drinks his entire water before starting his food. 

 

“Thirsty, Cas?” 

“Yes,” Castiel gasps as he sets his empty cup down. “I feel much better now.” 

Castiel glances at Sam eating his hotdog, and picks up his own to follow suit. 

“Let’s ride some rides after,” Sam says with a full mouth. 

“Right after you’ve eaten that hotdog?”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam says indignantly. “I haven’t puked on a ride in like three years.” 

“Yeah, but it happened, and I’ll never let you forget it.” Dean balls up his napkin from his finished hotdog and throws it at his brother, who swats it away with a scowl. 

“I would like to ride some rides,” Castiel says, swallowing the last of his own food. 

Dean looks at Cas’s hopeful expression, and his resolve breaks. “Okay, fine. But I only have ten bucks left, so we can only ride a few.” 

Dean doesn’t miss how Sam looks between him and Castiel and smirks, but he ignores it. 

They toss their trash and walk towards the rides, where Dean exchanges a few bucks for tickets. He divvies them up between the three of them.

“That’s only enough for two rides each,” Dean says. “So pick what you wanna go on.” 

“We’ve gotta ride the Freakout,” Sam insists. 

“Fine, but if you barf, you’re riding home in the trunk.”

Sam rolls his eyes. 

They get in line, which is short enough that they get on the next time the ride stops. The operator tells Cas that he can’t bring his dolphin on, so he asks the guy if he can hold it for him. The look on the guy’s face is hilarious, but he agrees, taking the stuffed toy from him with a shake of his head. 

Sam chatters excitedly as they get on and the operator checks that they’re secure, but Castiel stays quiet. Dean wonders if he’s nervous, and leans to see him over Sam’s head between them, catching his eye. He offers him a smile and a nod, trying to look reassuring, and Castiel smiles softly back. 

Turns out, there was no reason for Dean to worry about Castiel. As soon as they’re in the air, the wind blowing their hair as they swing high, Cas is grinning. Dean can hear him laugh over the sound of the music, and he feels his own wide smile at Castiel’s delight. 

The ride ends before any of them want it to, slowing down and lowering to the ground. They clamber off of it, Cas stumbling a little as he finds his feet. 

“That was very fun,” Castiel says. He gets his dolphin back, politely thanking the guy holding it, and they leave through the gate. His hair is an absolute disaster, and Dean can’t help but poke fun at him.

Castiel squints at him, raking his fingers through his hair without much success in taming it. “Yours is just as disheveled, Dean,” he grumbles. 

“Cas should go on the ferris wheel,” Sam says. “So we can show him stuff.”

Dean agrees, and they head that way. They hand over the last of their tickets and climb on, Dean getting on the seat across from Sam and Castiel. The dolphin’s allowed on this one, so Cas holds it happily in his lap. 

“You can see most of OC from the top, it’s pretty cool.” Sam explains as the ferris wheel slowly gets started. “We can point stuff out to you.” 

The sun is starting to set, the light sharpening and coming in at an angle, making everything look a bit orange. As they get higher and higher, the town comes into view below them, the inlet bordered by the bay and the ocean on three sides. Dean usually feels a little nervous this high off the ground, but Sam and Cas offer a pretty decent distraction. 

“You can see almost up the whole strip from here, see?” Sam points north, Castiel turning his head to follow. “If you squint, you can see the slides from the water park on 30th, and the Bunker’s two blocks closer than that. That’s how I always try and find the Bunker, I look for the water park, first.” 

Dean watches as Castiel nods, listening to Sam point out some other places. The setting sun gleams on his dark hair, and he looks out over the sights with an expression of soft wonder on his face, his lips slightly parted. Dean catches himself looking at Cas’s mouth and flicks his eyes back up just as Castiel turns and their gazes meet. Cas’s eyes are impossibly blue, and they crinkle in the corners a bit as he smiles slowly. 

“ - right, Dean?” Sam says, and Dean finds his brother staring at him expectantly. 

“Huh?”

“I _said_ , that mini golf place lets us play for free. Because of my picture,” he repeats. 

“Right,” Dean agrees, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I was telling Cas that earlier.”

“See, Cas, look - you can see the viking statue from here, kinda,” Sam points, and Castiel nods along, but Dean can’t see the viking statue from where they are, and he doubts Cas can, either. 

Eventually, the ferris wheel starts to slow, but there’s a moment when it comes to a stop as the people on the opposite end are getting off, suspending them at the very top. The ride stills, and the three of them quiet, looking out over the horizon. The town below is bathed in a gilded light. Sounds are almost muffled there at the top, the music below them seeming far away. Dean’s eyes move to Cas again, and he finds him like he was earlier, in the car. Eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun, taking deep breaths of ocean air. 

***

“Can we get some water?” Castiel asks as they leave the rides behind, walking back up the boardwalk in the direction they came from.

“Geez, Cas,” Sam says. “Thirsty much?” 

“I guess so,” Cas says, and Dean glances at him. He has been drinking a lot. 

Dean talks a girl working at the hot dog place into giving them a large cup of water for free, which she grudgingly hands over. 

“Those cups aren’t free, you know,” she grouches. 

“Yeah, I really appreciate it. Can I get a straw too?” 

The girl rolls her eyes, but hands one over. 

The three of them kick off their shoes and carry them so they can walk north through the sand, Castiel sipping his water, his dolphin tucked under his arm. 

“The sand feels nice on my feet,” he observes pleasantly. 

“We should walk down to the water,” Sam suggests.

Dean hesitates. “I’m gonna stay up here.” 

Sam looks like he expected as much. “Cas, you wanna come?”

“Um. I’m going to stay here, too. With Dean,” Castiel says, looking out towards the water. 

“You can go, Sam, but stay close,” Dean says, and his brother nods at him before dropping his shoes with Dean and Cas and tromping down to the shore. “You wanna sit?” Dean asks a little awkwardly. 

Castiel nods and they sit, side by side in the sand. Dean draws patterns in it with a stick, every once in a while glancing at Cas as he drinks from his straw. 

“You could’ve gone down to the water, Dean,” Castiel says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting here.” 

“Uh, that’s alright,” Dean says, shrugging. “I’m okay up here.” 

He can feel Castiel’s gaze on the side of his face, but he keeps his eyes down on the sand. 

“You don’t like the ocean?” Cas asks. 

Dean glances at him. “I didn’t say that.” 

“My apologies. I misunderstood.” 

They’re quiet a moment, and Dean huffs a breath. “No, I mean - I don’t know, it’s not - it’s not just the ocean I don’t like,” he blurts. 

Cas blinks at him. 

“I don’t swim,” Dean clarifies, avoiding looking at Cas.

“You don’t know how?”

“No, I know how, I just don’t - like to. I don’t like the water.” Dean feels his cheeks heat, which just makes him feel more embarrassed. “It’s a long story.” 

“Alright,” Cas says simply, and Dean appreciates that he doesn’t press the matter. 

Keeping his eyes on Sam, Dean leans back on his palms. Sam’s got his jeans rolled up and he kicks around in the shallow water, splashing. He knows not to go far, that Dean would call him back if he goes even as deep as to his knees, but Dean still feels wary as the waves break a few yards past his little brother. His stomach starts to ache a bit, just a dull twinging that he can almost ignore. 

Dean doesn’t even notice that he’s pressing a thumb into his ribs until he looks over and catches Cas watching him quietly. He drops his hand and looks away. 

“So,” Dean says. “What’s your plan for tonight?” 

“My plan?” 

“Yeah,” Dean wiggles his toes in the sand. “Where are you gonna go?” 

“Oh,” Cas says. “Well, I thought that I might stay.”

“Stay?” Dean turns to him. 

“With you. Is that… alright?” Castiel looks at him, his expression quiet and earnest and hopeful. It’s dark by now, the only light being what spills over the beach from the boardwalk. It makes Cas’s eyes appear almost a royal blue, like deep unexplored ocean rather than the glittering neritic color they are in the sun. Dean’s insides squeeze with a feeling he doesn’t quite recognize. 

“Yeah,” his voice cracks a little and he clears his throat. “Yeah, you can stay with me. We have a couple of empty rooms. My dad just can’t know you’re staying in one.” 

Cas’s eyebrows come together a little. “Can I stay in your room?”

“Oh,” Dean says in mild surprise. He swallows. “Sure, okay. I can - I can set something up for you, I guess.”

Castiel smiles warmly, and Dean’s chest flutters aggressively and he has to look away. He’s saved from saying anything else as Sam walks back towards them from the water. 

“You ready to go, Sammy?” Dean asks, and Sam nods. He and Cas stand and they all make their way back to the car. 

They’re quiet on the way home, all tired from a long day. Dean sees Sam’s eyes drooping in the rearview mirror, and smiles. The two of them were always easily knocked out by car rides. Once home, they clamber out of the Impala and head for the apartment. John’s truck isn’t outside, which Dean tries not to think about. He’ll probably be home late. 

“G’night, guys,” Sam says, rubbing an eye blearily and heading off to his room. He yawns, saying, “I’ll see you around, Castiel.” 

“Good night, Sam.”

“Night, Sammy.” 

They hear Sam’s door close softly, and then Dean and Cas are left looking at each other in the dark doorway to the kitchen. 

Castiel yawns, and Dean chuckles. “You tired?”

“Yes,” he nods. “And thirsty.” 

“I’ll get you some water.” Dean crosses the tiny kitchen to the sink and fills up a glass from the tap. “Is this normal, how thirsty you are?” He asks, and turns to hand the water to Cas and almost knocks into him, he’s standing so close. 

“Shit,” Dean says with a nervous laugh, the water sloshing a little. “Personal space, Cas.” 

“I apologize,” Cas reaches out and their fingers brush as he takes the glass. “And I’m not sure if it’s normal or not.” He gulps the water down in one go. “I think I’m okay now.”

“Okay,” Dean says slowly, taking the empty cup and filling it again. “Well, take this with you in case you get thirsty again overnight.” 

In his room, Dean drags some blankets and pillows off of his bed and arranges them on the limited floor space between his mattress and the dresser. Castiel gently places his water on the nightstand, and the dolphin on the floor next to his makeshift bed. 

Once he’s got a space set up for Cas, Dean gives him the sweatpants he was wearing earlier to change back into. “Here. These’ll be more comfortable to sleep in than jeans.” 

Dean kicks off his shoes and changes his own pants, turning away modestly as he does. When they’re dressed for bed, Dean flicks off the light and climbs onto his mattress. He listens to Cas getting settled on the floor next to him, and eventually they both quiet. Dean stares up at the ceiling. It’s not too late, but he suddenly feels exhausted. 

“Dean?” Cas murmurs. 

“Yeah, Cas?” 

Castiel is quiet for so long that Dean thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep. He turns his head to squint through the dark at him when he finally answers. 

“Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” 

Dean sees the silhouette of Cas shrug. “For today. And… for being what I’d hoped.” 

Dean frowns. “What do you mean?”

But Castiel turns over, away from him, and says, “Good night, Dean.” 

Dean lets his breath out slow. “Yeah. Night, Cas.” 

***

“Dean. _Dean_.”

Dean stirs. He doesn’t know why he’s being woken for school. He graduated. Didn’t he? 

“I’m not going,” he mumbles blearily, squeezing his eyes shut. “I hate Mr. MacLeod.” He tries to roll away, but whoever is trying to wake him is freakin’ persistent. 

“Dean, _please_.”

The voice is way too deep to be Sam’s, and not pissed enough to be his dad, and that leaves Dean very confused. He finally rouses enough to be considered conscious, and he blinks his eyes open. 

“Wha’z happening,” he grumbles, and turns his head to find Castiel’s face floating very close to his own in the dark. He leans away, blinking rapidly. 

Castiel frowns. “Who’s Mr. MacLeod?” 

Dean gets a good look at Cas, and he suddenly pushes himself up on his elbows, much more alert. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

Even in the dark, Dean sees that Cas is as pale as a sheet. He has a gleam of sweat on his forehead, above where his eyebrows are pulled sharply together. 

“I don’t feel so good,” Cas states the obvious. Dean looks at the clock, which glows 4:13, and he notes several empty water glasses cluttering the nightstand around it. 

“Are you gonna be sick?” Dean sits up, swinging his legs around so his feet are on the carpet, next to where Castiel is kneeling. 

“I don’t know.” 

They quickly discover that the answer to that is _yes_ , when Castiel suddenly starts retching. Dean just barely gets the trash can under him in time, and grimaces as Cas heaves up the contents of his stomach. From the sound of it, it’s mostly water. Dean, who’s always been a sympathetic puker, turns his face away as his own stomach turns dangerously. 

“I think I need water,” Cas gasps, head still bowed over the trash can. 

“You just puked up all that water!” Dean’s heart is pounding in his chest as he stands over Cas, not knowing what to do.

“No,” Cas pants. “I mean, _I need water_.” 

“What - ” Abruptly, Dean understands. He nods. “Okay. We can do that. Um - ” He wracks his brain. The pool still isn’t refilled. “Room one has a bathtub, a big one. We’ll go there, okay?”

Castiel nods, breathing heavy. “Okay.” 

“Alright, it’s not far. Come on, I’ll help you,” Dean takes Cas by the bicep and helps heave him to his feet. Cas’s legs are trembling, and Dean quickly ducks under his arm, pulling it around his own shoulders to keep him from slumping. “I gotcha, let’s go. Bring the trash can.” 

Dean heads for the door, which was left cracked open, presumably from one of Cas’s many trips to the kitchen for a drink. 

“Wait,” Castiel says, voice absolutely wrecked, clutching the trash can to himself with his free arm. “Get Shelly.” 

“ _Huh?_ ”

“Shelly, the dolphin.” 

“Are you _serious?_ ” Dean asks, but snags the stuffed dolphin off the floor on their way out. 

Dean gets him down the hall and out of the apartment as quickly as he can. He stops just outside and leans Cas against the side of the building. 

“Stay here,” he whispers, and Cas nods. He looks like shit, and Dean worries he’ll sink to the ground as soon as he lets him go - and he does, sliding down the wall until he’s propped up on the cement with his legs tangled beneath him, head tipped back and eyes closed. Dean grits his teeth and leaves him with the dolphin, slipping back inside. 

He slinks through the door to the lobby, and creeps down the hall that comes up around the side of the front desk. A peek around the corner shows the spinny chair empty, light spilling out from the doorway to the back room. He can’t remember who’s working the night shift tonight - was it Ellen? He thought Jo had said something about Ellen having to train a new manager at the Roadhouse one of these nights, but John’s truck was gone earlier, meaning _he_ was at the Roadhouse. And he hates sitting at the bar when Ellen’s behind it giving him withering looks, so that means she must’ve been here all night, letting him drink in peace. 

But it doesn’t even matter, and Dean’s wasting time thinking about it, because if it’s Ellen or Rufus or freakin’ _Jo_ in the back room, he can’t get caught by any of them. He can bullshit with the best of them, but he doesn’t know how he’d talk himself out of this one. 

Keeping crouched low, Dean skulks around the corner, slipping behind the desk through the swinging half-door. He looks up at the wall, where all the room keys are hung on hooks above his head. The first key is there, thankfully. He takes a deep breath, stands, swipes the key off the hook and gets the hell out, gone before the door stops swinging on its hinges. 

When Dean gets back outside, Cas is vomiting again into the trash can. Dean can see his back muscles bunching violently through his threadbare t-shirt as he heaves, and he grimaces in sympathy. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean puts a hand to the back of his neck, and finds clammy. “You’re okay, I gotcha. Alright? Come on, let’s get you up.” 

He gets Cas off the ground, which is even more difficult than the first time, and grabs the dolphin as well. Dean practically drags him down the walkway towards the first motel room, the guy’s legs barely cooperating. 

“Almost there, Cas,” Dean pants under his weight. “You with me?”

“Yes.” Dean feels Castiel’s hair brush his cheek as he nods. 

Dean gets the door unlocked and they burst through, both of them almost going tumbling to the floor. They make it to the bathroom, and Dean flicks on the light before gently letting Cas down onto the toilet. He drops the dolphin to the tile and moves to the tub, shunting on the water at full blast. 

“Get your pants off, if you can,” Dean instructs over his shoulder, and he hears Cas fumbling to oblige. 

“Okay,” Cas says, and Dean sees his sweatpants tossed into his field of vision. 

“Alright, come on,” Dean politely keeps his eyes averted as he turns back to Cas and helps him up, leading him to the tub. “In,” he instructs. 

Somehow, Cas manages to maneuver his legs into the tub. 

“Close your eyes,” Castiel warns, and just in time - as soon as his feet hit the water, the whole tub seems to erupt in a blinding, white light. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and turns away, his hands slipping from Cas as he brings up an arm to cover his face. There’s a splash as Castiel all but falls, ungracefully, into the tub, and then the light recedes. 

When Dean lowers his arm and turns back, his lips part in astonishment at the sight. Cas leans back against the porcelain with his eyes closed, his chest still rising and falling a little rapidly, and his tail looking absolutely enormous in the tub. It doesn’t really fit, the last couple feet or so of fin sticking out of the end.

“Holy shit,” Dean whispers. 

Cas pulls Dean’s sodden t-shirt off of himself, tossing it over the side of the tub with a slap, and leans back again with a relieved sigh. 

“I feel much better now,” he says. 

Dean shakes his head. When the tub is filled completely, he reaches over and shuts off the water. 

“Thank you for the help, Dean,” Cas says. The color has returned to his face for the most part, and he’s breathing easier. “That was quite unpleasant.” 

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Dean scoffs. “You scared the shit out of me, dude.” Dean plops down on the toilet lid. 

“I apologize. I didn’t know that was going to happen.” 

“So I guess there’s a limit on the legs, huh?” Dean says. 

“I guess so,” Cas flexes his tail a bit with a slosh, and Dean stares at it. 

When Dean looks back up at Castiel’s face, something catches his eye. “Cas,” he says, and points to his neck. “Are those - ”

Cas frowns for a moment but then his face clears in understanding. “Gills, yes.” He turns his head away so Dean can see better. He’s got three narrow slits underneath his jaw, on both sides. Dean hadn’t noticed them the first time. 

“Woah,” Dean whispers. “But you still breathe air, too?”

“My lungs still work, yes.” 

“Can I feel your tail?” Dean asks before he can stop himself, and he’s about to feel embarrassed but Castiel smiles and nods. 

“Yes, you can feel it.” 

Dean scoots to the edge of the toilet lid and leans forward, reaching out. He brushes his fingertips across his tail, feeling the scaley texture, and then yanks his hand away. “ _Eugh_ ,” he exclaims. “It’s slimy.” 

“Thank you,” Cas replies pleasantly. “I take very good care of it. I rub it with kelp and jellyfish frequently.” 

Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “This is so crazy.” 

“Do you mind if I stay here until morning?” Cas asks. “I’m really feeling a lot better.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Dean says. “I’m glad you’re okay. You really kinda freaked me out there, man.” 

“I really am sorry,” Cas says sincerely. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“No, Cas, don’t apologize. Not your fault, really,” Dean assures. “But you’re okay, sleeping here?” 

“Yes, I’m quite comfortable,” Cas proves it by yawning. 

“Okay,” Dean smiles. “Well, I’m gonna go back to my bed, too. Do you need anything else?”

“You’ll come back, right?” 

“Of course,” Dean says, and he stands. “As soon as I wake up.”

“And leave Shelly here?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave Shelly here.” 

“Alright,” Cas smiles softly. 

“Night, Cas,” Dean says.

“Good night, Dean.” 

Dean shuts the light off in the bathroom as he leaves, but cracks the door so some light comes in from the bedroom. He locks room one behind him. 

Back in his own bed, Dean settles beneath the covers, and it doesn’t take him long to drift off. When he does, he dreams of white light, and sunlight glittering off of water from above, and the sound of a powerful tail splashing softly, but he won’t remember any of it in the morning.


	4. night shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a little longer. Thanks always to Charli for putting her eyes on it, and for dragging me out of the pits of writer's block. <3 All other mistakes are mine!
> 
> Also, just a little warning for this chapter, for discussion of a mildly destructive coping mechanism. See end notes for details if you need them!

The next time Dean is woken, the voice saying his name is just deep enough and just pissed enough for him to recognize it immediately. He responds to it instinctively. It takes only one stern-sounding “Dean” to have him blinking his eyes open blearily and pushing himself up on his hands. 

“Yeah,” he says, trying to focus on the image of his dad standing in his doorway. He has no idea what time it is. 

“It’s nine o’clock,” John answers his unasked question. “Get your ass up. Rufus is already working on the pool, and you need to ask him if he needs help.”

Nodding, Dean sits up. 

“That fucking sink in Mrs. Tran’s room needs fixing again, and then I’ve gotta drive up to Fenwick, so I won’t be around to make sure you get your shit done. So get it done.” 

“What’s in Fenwick?” Dean asks, his still half-asleep brain making him sloppy with questions.

John gives him a look, but then responds. “The new chairs for the deck delivered to the wrong place, so I’m gonna pick the damn things up myself,” he says with a scowl. 

_Yikes_ , Dean thinks. He sure wouldn’t wanna be whatever poor schmuck gets chewed out by John Winchester at the outdoor furniture store. 

“You’ve got the night shift at the front desk, by the way,” John says.

“Tonight?”

“All weekend.” 

“ _All_ \- ” Dean starts, incredulous, but his dad raises his eyebrows challengingly, and Dean stops. He grits his teeth. “Yes, sir.” 

John grunts, and turns to go. “Oh,” he says, speaking over his shoulder. “And your trailer park friend’s here, lookin’ for you,” Dean doesn’t miss the slight disdain in his voice as he walks away.

Sure enough, when Dean flings open the apartment door, there’s Castiel, standing outside. His hair’s still damp, making it look even darker and a little disheveled, the mid-morning light sharpening the angles of his face. He looks up and sees Dean, and the way his face lights up a little has Dean’s insides fluttering.

“Hello, Dean,” he says. He’s put the clothes back on that he was wearing the night before. And he’s got that stupid dolphin tucked under his arm. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. He hears his dad’s voice, and glances down to the left, where Mrs. Tran is letting John into her room with his toolbox. “Come on, come inside.” 

Dean gives Cas some clean clothes to change into, and finds an extra toothbrush in a package under the sink for him. 

“So, you’re feeling better?” Dean asks as he rinses out his own toothbrush. 

“Yes, thank you,” Cas squirts some toothpaste onto his tongue and Dean grimaces and shakes his head at him, confiscating the tube from him. 

“Don’t do that. Do you think the legs will last longer this time? Or have you got the same amount of time?” 

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out.” 

“So, uh,” Dean says as they head back to his room. “I don’t know what you’ve got planned for the day, but I have to do some work around here this morning.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re welcome to hang out here, or, I don’t know - ”

“I was thinking of taking a walk,” Castiel says. 

“Oh,” Dean looks at him. “Okay.” 

“Is that alright with you?”

“Sure, Cas,” Dean says, and lets out a chuckle. “You’re not stuck here, man.”

“Thank you for lending me clothes,” Cas looks down at himself, at the new t-shirt and jeans Dean gave him. “Would you mind if I left Shelley here?”

Dean can’t help but smile. “Yeah, Cas, you can leave Shelley here.” 

Trying to tamp down his disappointment, Dean walks Castiel out and says goodbye to him. It’s not like they have to spend every waking moment together. Cas wants to explore the town, and Dean’s sure he’ll come back later. And if he doesn’t, so what, the guy can do what he wants. 

His mouth still twists a little as he watches Cas walk away. Shaking his head, he turns his back on Cas’s retreating form and heads towards the pool. 

Rufus greets him with a nod. 

“Hey, Rufus.” 

Rufus has got two hoses thrown over the side of the pool, which is about a third of the way filled. The ladder’s out, and it looks like he was cleaning out the gutters or something. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Dean casts his eyes around for something that looks like it needs to be done. There’s a can of paint sitting by the fence. 

“Sure, kid,” Rufus says as he climbs back up the ladder. “Your dad wants the fence repainted, since the new boards don’t really match. Grab a brush, Dean-o.” 

Dean sighs, but he gets to work. 

It’s tedious, and the sun just gets hotter as the morning progresses. The fence takes hours, and by noon he’s sweaty and cranky and his stomach is growling. He’s also pretty sure he’s got paint on his face, from the time he tried to wipe at the sweat with the brush in his hand. Rufus whistles as he cleans out the gutters, and Dean lets his mind wander. 

He should’ve known he’d regret letting his thoughts trail unchecked, but the work on the fence is boring and doesn’t keep his attention enough to prevent it. He paints, and he finds himself thinking about Cas, and he catches himself smiling at the thought of his child-like excitement at the arcade. He imagines the soft, glowing expression he had at the top of the ferris wheel; his sleepy yawn in the dark in the kitchen; the color of his skin, sun-tanned and a little flushed, as he lay in the bathtub, his head tipped against the wall and his throat a long, exposed column - 

“Dean!” 

Dean snaps back to the present, his hand stilled halfway to the fence, paint dripping from the brush onto the cement. He’s half-hard in his pants. 

“Uh, _what?_ ” he snaps over his shoulder, blushing furiously. He puts the brush down with a little too much force, and it splatters onto his jeans.

“I’m takin’ lunch,” Rufus calls to him.

“Uh, o-okay,” Dean stutters. “Yeah, me - me too.” 

Dean waits until he hears Rufus go in through the slider and he bolts back to the apartment before he sees anyone. Slamming through the door, he makes for the kitchen and turns on the cold water. A few splashes to his face and, while it still feels like his face is on fire, his dick gets itself under control. 

“Jesus,” Dean swears, and looks down at himself. “Really, dude?” 

He takes his time making a sandwich, and he wraps it up in a napkin, and he doesn’t think about Cas. When he’s sure little Dean isn’t going to do anything to humiliate him, he heads for the lobby. 

Jo is behind the desk, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers and looking bored. 

“‘Sup, Jo,” Dean says as he approaches, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. 

“Hey,” she says. “You make me one?” 

“You wish,” he says with a full mouth, and Jo makes a disgusted face. 

“You’re gross.” 

Dean grins at her and swallows. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. We’re a little over half full right now. Probably won’t fill up this weekend, but it’ll be close,” she flips through the check-in book, Dean looking over her shoulder. He notes that room one is still open - hopefully it still will be by tonight. 

“I heard you’ve got the night shift all weekend,” she says with a smirk. “Your dad’s that pissed about the pool, huh?”

“Well, he didn’t kill me, so there’s that,” he says, and she chuckles. 

Dean and Jo have known each other since she was in pigtails and he still thought girls had cooties, so she knows all about the joys of a pissed off John Winchester. John and Jo’s dad, Bill Harvelle, had been friends the first time they’d lived here - when John still worked on cars and Bill was running their family bar. But then there was the accident, and Dean’s mom had died, and John had taken him and Sammy and had fallen off the map. When they came back, it was to find out that Bill had died not long after they’d left, while hunting with some buddies in West Virginia. The Harvelles still had the Roadhouse, but Ellen had volunteered to help manage the Bunker as well. 

“I saw your brother as he was leaving for school this morning,” Jo says. “He said you’ve got a new friend?” 

Dean takes a bite of his sandwich and nods. “Yeah.” 

“A Bay Cove kid, huh?” She asks, referring to the trailer park across the street.

“Yep, just moved in.” He shoves the last of the sandwich in his mouth.

“A kid from the wrong side of the highway,” she smirks. “You and your bad boys, Dean.”

He almost chokes on his food. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing. He just sounds dreamy, is all.” 

The bell over the door dings as a couple walks in, and Jo swivels her chair away from Dean to face them, an air of superiority about it. Dean swallows his food. 

“Wait, what?” He asks, but Jo just greets the customers and throws him a smirk over her shoulder. Dean shakes his head and pushes away from the desk, heading for the slider. 

“You’ve got paint on your forehead, by the way!” Jo calls to him. He scrubs at it grudgingly. 

After about an hour, Dean finally gets the fence done. He was sure to stay focused on his task this time, and not let his mind wander into any dangerous territory. Packing up the paint supplies and putting everything where it belongs in the shed, Dean wonders if Sammy’s almost home. Being the last day, he’s pretty sure they were supposed to be let out early. 

He thinks this, and then he steps out of the shed and back into the sun just as Sam is coming through the gate onto the pool deck - and following close behind him is Castiel. They both wave at him, and make their way over. 

“How was the last day, Sammy?” Dean asks. He glances at Cas, who looks a little sweaty from his walk, and looks away again. 

“Good. Look who I found on my way back from the bus stop,” Sam throws a thumb over his shoulder at Cas. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. “How was your walk?”

“It was fine, thank you,” Cas says pleasantly. 

“Yeah, he’s lucky he didn’t die,” Sam says with a roll of his eyes. “He was jaywalking across Coastal Highway when I found him.” 

“Cas,” Dean admonishes, shaking his head. “People drive like dipshits around here. You have to use the crosswalks. If Jody had seen you do that, she woulda arrested your ass, man.”

“Who’s Jody?” Cas asks with a frown. 

“She’s an OC cop,” Sam says. “We know her real well because of how many times she’s had to bring Dean home,” he laughs, and Cas tilts his head in confusion. Dean swats at Sam’s head, but he ducks out of the way. 

“Whatever, bitch, she loves me now,” Dean says. 

“Sure, whatever, jerk,” Sam grins. “Are you almost done out here? I invited Cas to come sit on the beach with us.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean glances around for Rufus, and spots him messing around with the pool filter. “Lemme just check with Rufus. Go put your stuff down and eat something.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “C’mon, Cas, you hungry?” 

“Rufus,” Dean says, heading over to the other side of the pool. “Is there anything else you need me to do out here?”

Rufus looks up from where he’s squatting next to the edge. “Nah, kid, you’re good. We’re just waitin’ on the pool to fill, now, and I’ll do the chemicals and shit when it’s done. Thanks for doin’ the fence.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“Will you just tell Jo to let people comin’ in know that the pool will be open in the morning?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you later, then.” Dean turns to go. 

“See you ‘round, kid,”

Inside, Jo’s got a shit-eating grin on her face before he even approaches the desk. 

“I saw _Cas_ ,” she says. 

“Yeah, cool. Hey, tell people that - ”

“I can’t believe that’s his name. I mean, _seriously_ , Dean? ” She shakes her head. “ _Again?_ ”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean says. “Make sure you tell people - ”

“But he is pretty. Shit, those blue eyes, man - ”

“ _Tell people the pool will be open tomorrow,_ ” he blurts, and he turns and stalks off angrily, Jo laughing behind him. 

In the apartment, Dean finds Sam and Castiel contentedly eating sandwiches of their own at the tiny table in the kitchen. Dean doesn’t know the last time anyone’s actually sat at the thing. 

“We need more groceries,” Sam says. 

“Sure, you wanna buy ‘em?” Dean grabs a family sized bag of chips from the cupboard and rips it open, grabbing a handful and tossing the bag on the table. “I’ll tell dad,” Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes. 

“I’m gonna go get changed,” Sam says, getting up from the table and heading to his room. 

Castiel follows Dean to his own room, munching on his sandwich behind him. 

“I know you can’t really get in the water, but I’ll lend you some trunks to wear,” Dean says, shovelling the last of his handful of chips in his mouth and brushing the crumbs from his hands. “It’d look weird if you didn’t.” 

He digs through his drawers, Cas waiting patiently over his shoulder, clearly enjoying his turkey on white bread. At the bottom of one of the drawers, Dean finds an old pair of blue swimming trunks that he forgot he even had. He has no idea the last time he wore them. He stares at them a moment, before he grabs them and thrusts them at Cas without looking at him.

“Here, you can wear these.” 

***

They get set up on the beach, throwing down a few towels and the bag of chips that they brought from the apartment. It’s not as crowded as it’s bound to be into the weekend proper, which is nice. They manage to find a spot with a pretty wide radius of open sand. 

Dean calls Sam back as the kid goes running for the water so he can slap some sunscreen on him, though Sam grumbles under his breath about how Dean “never wears it.” Dean ignores that. 

Properly lathered up, Sam slips out of Dean’s grip and makes for the water again. Dean watches him go, hands on his hips, to make sure he doesn’t run too far out into the ocean. 

“You take very good care of him.” 

Dean turns to find Cas behind him, watching him with a small smile. Dean shrugs. 

“I’ve had practice,” he says nonchalantly. 

Dean pulls off his shirt and collapses onto his stomach on a towel, grabbing the chips and taking a handful. Castiel plops down right in the sand, already bare-chested. 

He looks just like Dean expected him to in those freakin’ blue swim trunks, and it’s a bit distracting. They really catch the color of his eyes, which glitter in the bright sun. Dean rolls his eyes at himself and looks away, shoving chips in his mouth. 

“Today, on my walk,” Cas says, sounding excited. “Guess what I met.”

Dean props himself up on his elbows so he can squint up at Cas beside him. “What’d you meet?”

“A _dog_ ,” he says, and Dean chuckles. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. He was very friendly. His name was Ham, and he had a lot of wrinkles, and he was beautiful,” Cas smiles. 

“Have you ever seen a dog before?”

“No, not before today,” Cas says, shaking his head. 

“Well, then, how’d you know it was a dog?”

“The owner told me.”

“You _asked_ him what it was?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean cracks up. 

“Cas,” he says when he’s gotten himself under control. “Don’t ever change.” 

Castiel’s expression softens a little at Dean’s words, his lips parting slightly as he smiles. Dean feels like he wants to look away in embarrassment but he can’t, caught in Cas’s gaze. Finally, he clears his throat and pushes himself up in the sand, sitting to face the water. 

“What else did you see on your walk?” Dean asks, leaning back on his palms. 

“Well,” Cas squints towards the ocean. “A lot of humans. A lot of cars. I touched a few trees.” 

“You hug any?” Dean jokes. 

Cas frowns in confusion, his head tipping to the side. “No. Why, should I have?”

“No, never mind. It was a joke.” 

“Oh,” Cas still looks puzzled. 

Dean passes Castiel the bag of chips, but as Cas is taking them from him his eyes seem to catch on something. 

“Dean,” he says. 

“What?” When Dean turns, he finds Cas staring at him, and he squirms a little uncomfortably. “ _What?_ ” 

“Look at all your sand sprinkles,” he says. 

Dean glances down at himself and raises an eyebrow. “What, you mean my freckles?” 

Cas reaches out towards him, and Dean freezes. Cas brushes his fingertips over Dean’s shoulder and the smattering of freckles there, while Dean watches him in bewilderment. 

“You have so many,” Cas murmurs. The expression on his face is not unlike it was the night before, when they sat over the dimming sunlit town at the top of the ferris wheel. Dean feels his cheeks warm, and he’s sure even the tips of his ears are pink. 

“Uh, yeah, I get a lot in the summer,” he says nervously. 

“They’re beautiful,” Cas says. He sounds so sincere it makes Dean’s stomach twist almost painfully. 

He scoffs, trying to brush it off. 

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, unable to come up with a better response with the way Cas’s long fingers trail across his collar bone. Cas touches his throat briefly before following the leather cord that rests around Dean’s neck with a finger, raising goosebumps in his wake. 

“What is this?” Cas asks when he gets to the amulet resting over Dean’s sternum, fiddling with it gently. 

Dean swallows. “Uh, Sammy got it for me. For Christmas, a few years ago.” 

“It’s interesting.” Cas finally withdraws his hand back into his own space, and Dean can breathe again. 

They hang out in contented quietness for a while, occasionally passing the chips back and forth to one another. At one point Castiel stretches out in the sand, apparently without a single care that the stuff gets all over him, and in his hair. Dean watches him, lying in the sun on his back with his eyes shut, and he can't seem to look away. 

Cas is built like a swimmer, which Dean supposes makes sense - all long limbs, strong looking but lean. A bit more so than Dean, who’s a little stockier in the shoulder and arms. 

Cas squints his eyes open and catches Dean looking at him, but he doesn’t look particularly fazed. In fact, he just gazes back at him until it’s Dean who turns away first. 

“Hey, guys!” Sam comes jogging up the sand, excited. “Look, dolphins!” 

Sure enough, there are several people standing and pointing towards the water, where every few seconds a dorsal fin breaches briefly. 

“I counted four of them,” Sam squints towards the ocean, a hand over his brow to shade the sun. 

“There are six,” says Cas, who clambers up from the sand to stand by Sam. 

“How do you - ” Two more dorsal fins breach, a little ways behind the others. “Oh, I see them. Nice eyes, Cas.” 

The afternoon passes slow and relaxed, the sun bright and hot. It makes Dean sleepy, and he spends the time lounging on his towel. 

Sam convinces Castiel to let him bury him in the sand, and Dean smirks as he watches Cas’s failure to resist the puppy-dog eyes. He watches in amusement as Cas’s body disappears a little at a time until he’s just a head sticking out of the ground. Cas thinks it’s about the funniest thing ever, looking down at himself and seeing nothing but sand. 

“Now I’m hungry,” he says, grinning. 

“I guess you’re gonna starve,” Dean deadpans, crunching on the last of the chips. 

“Hey, don’t eat all of them,” Cas complains as Sam pats the sand covering him so it’s flat. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Dean challenges. 

“Quit moving!” Sam admonishes. “You’re making cracks.”

“Your brother is trying to starve me.” 

“Dean, share with him!” 

“All that’s left is crumbs!” Dean shakes the bag to prove it. 

“Give them to me,” Cas demands, and Dean grumbles. 

“Pushy, much?” Dean mutters, but he shuffles over on his knees. “Fine, here.” 

Obviously satisfied with himself, Cas tilts his head back and Dean tips the last of the chips into his mouth. 

Although he wants to say something about how Cas looks like some giant, weird baby bird, the adjectives that come to Dean’s mind are more along the lines of _endearing_ and _adorable_ , so he opts to say nothing instead.

“Thank you,” Cas says with a grin as he chews, looking absolutely smug. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean grumbles, but he turns his face so Cas can’t see him smiling as he crinkles up the empty bag. Sam does catch his smile, though, and Dean flushes when he sees his little brother’s smirk. “Shut up, Sammy.”

“I didn’t say anything.” 

By evening, the beach has started to clear out, and the chips are long gone, and all three of them are hungry and sandy. Dean feels the kind of tired that comes from being in the sun all day, and he notes that Sam’s gotten a touch of pink on his cheeks and across his nose just as Castiel starts complaining about being thirsty. 

Figuring it’s a better time than any, Dean suggests they pack up and head back to the Bunker. His shoulders feel warm and a little tender, like he might have gotten a bit too much sun, too. No doubt he probably has twice the number of freckles he had earlier. 

Back at the apartment, Dean pours Cas a large glass of water and finds a few boxes of Kraft deep in the cupboard. Sam was right, they really don’t have much more than that to eat. He’ll have to ask John for some grocery money. 

Dean sets some water on the stove and they all change their clothes while it heats up, and Sam gets a movie started in their tiny living room across from the kitchen. 

“What’s this?” 

Dean jumps a little in surprise as he’s divvying the food up into bowls, Castiel’s voice coming from close behind his ear. 

“Geez Cas, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“My apologies,” Cas says, but he doesn’t step back. 

“It’s mac and cheese. I’m sure you’ll like it, everyone likes mac and cheese. Here,” Dean picks up a spoon and takes a scoop, turning around to find Cas startlingly close. The guy really has no sense of personal space. Dean holds out the spoon. “Try it.” 

Cas makes no move to take it. Instead, without taking his eyes from Dean’s, he opens his mouth, and waits. 

Dean stares. His eyes flick to Castiel’s lips, the glint of his tongue behind his teeth. Without his permission, his arm raises and Cas leans forward to wrap his lips around the spoon and take the bite of macaroni. 

“Mm,” Cas says, and Dean swallows with a gulp. “It is good.” 

Alright, now Dean isn’t sure if Cas really has no idea what he’s doing or if the guy’s just fucking with him, but when he finally tears his eyes away from Cas’s mouth it’s to find him with a perfectly innocent expression on his face. Dean wants to kiss him. 

“Guys!” Sam calls from the living room. 

Flustered, Dean turns away from Cas and loudly clears his throat. 

“The movie’s starting!” 

“Coming,” Dean calls back, and his fucking voice cracks infuriatingly. He grabs a bowl and shoves it unceremoniously at Cas before taking the other two and brushing past him and out of the kitchen. 

“Here,” Dean sets Sam’s food down on the rickety coffee table maybe a little too hard, and Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“Geez.”

“Sorry,” Dean debates between the couch and the mismatched armchair for a split second before choosing the chair and plopping down. After his dangerous daydreaming earlier, and whatever that shit was in the kitchen just now, it’s probably best if he puts a little bit of space between him and Cas. Unless he wants to risk completely humiliating himself in front of Cas and his little brother. 

“What are we watching?” Cas asks as he and Sam get settled on the couch. 

“Captain America,” Sam’s voice is muffled around a mouthful of macaroni. 

They eat their dinner, and watch the movie, and Dean glances at Cas a few times to see his reaction to things - it is his first time seeing a movie, after all. He’s almost entranced, watching intently, immersed in the story. Dean’s seen the movie almost a hundred times, so he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out when he glances over to watch Cas instead. 

Dean’s eyes start to feel heavy, though, and while he tries to fight it a few times, eventually he drifts off, curled up tight on the armchair. He’s vaguely aware of the sounds of the movie as he sleeps, and he thinks he might hear Sam and Cas talking a few times, but eventually he’s deeply enough asleep that he doesn’t hear a thing. 

When he wakes up, the credits are rolling and it’s almost dark out. 

Unfolding himself from the chair, Dean blinks around blearily. Sam is asleep on the couch, drooling into the cushions. Their bowls are stacked on the coffee table, and Cas is nowhere to be seen. 

Dean’s back cracks when he stands, making him groan softly, and he collects the bowls off the table. He finds Cas in the kitchen, chugging a glass of water. 

“You feeling okay still?” Dean heads for the sink with the dishes and starts the hot water. 

“Yes,” Cas sets his empty cup down. “Not as thirsty as I was this time yesterday.”

“But still thirsty?” Dean squirts some soap over the bowls and starts scrubbing. 

“Still thirsty.” 

Dean glances at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall. “I’ve gotta work the night shift at the front desk tonight, and it starts soon. I’ll check and make sure that room one’s still open, and I’ll give you the key and you can let yourself in. You think you can figure out the faucet and stuff for the tub?”

“I think so.” 

Dean nods, placing the dishes on a towel to air dry. “After this weekend I won’t work at night and maybe we can sneak you into the pool. You know, give you a chance to stretch your… tail.” Dean smiles at him over his shoulder.

“That would be nice,” Cas smiles back at him. “Thank you. How long do you work tonight?” 

“The shift’s from nine-thirty to five-thirty, so I’ve gotta get going. You’re welcome to hang out here or somethin’ until you have to go to room one.” Dean finishes with the last of their spoons and wipes his hands on a hand towel, turning to Cas. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says. 

Dean shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“What are you guys doin’?”

Sam shuffles into the doorway, his already shaggy hair looking atrocious as he rubs at a sleepy eye.

“I’ve got the front desk tonight,” Dean says, and Sam grimaces.

“Why do you have to do it?” He asks, sounding annoyed. 

“Because there was no one else, I don’t know - ”

“ _No_ ,” Sam interrupts, and Dean rolls his eyes. “Because dad’s an asshole and he’s trying to punish you, still, for the stupid pool - ”

“It’s _fine_ , Sam, cut it out. It’s not a big deal.” 

Cas glances quizzically between the two of them. Sam just looks angry. 

“Seriously, dude, drop it. I’ll see you in the morning,” Dean says. 

“Whatever,” Sam grumbles. “Castiel, you wanna watch another movie? Or do you have to go home?”

“Um, no, I don’t have to go home.”

“Cool. Iron Man’s next, I’ll get it started,” Sam says, and pads back out of the kitchen.

“Ignore him,” Dean mutters. “He’s a brat about this stuff sometimes. Anyway, I’ll leave the key under the mat outside the door, okay?”

“Okay. Will you come see me after your shift ends?”

“Sure, Cas. I’ll come.” 

Cas smiles. 

***

Working the night shift reminds Dean of how much he hates working the night shift. He checks in three rooms between the hours of ten o’clock and three, which is more than usual, at least. And thankfully, he doesn’t think any of them seem particularly wacky, and he doesn’t get any calls to the front desk of people complaining about this or that in their room. So as night shifts go, it’s not too terrible. Even so, despite the fact that he napped for over an hour in front of the tv, by three o’clock he’s exhausted and having a hard time keeping his eyes open. 

He’s tried doodling on printer paper, he’s explored the strange corners of YouTube on the desk computer, and he’s even considered making prank calls from the landline to occupy the time. The last two and half hours are the longest he’s ever experienced in his life.

It’s just about five o’clock, and Dean is spinning in the office chair, kicking off the desk on every other pass or so to keep it going. He only has about half an hour before Ellen’s scheduled to come in, and it can’t pass fast enough. 

Getting a little too dizzy, Dean is just starting to slow himself down when he thinks he hears something from outside. He sticks out an arm and grabs the desk, bringing the chair to an abrupt halt. The room continues to spin as he stills, and he blinks rapidly to bring his vision back into focus. He strains his ears. 

There, again - coming from outside, on the pool deck. It sounds like voices, and of more than one person. 

Suddenly uneasy, Dean stands. It wouldn’t be the first time kids from across the street snuck over the fence to take a dip in the pool, but he figured after getting caught by John the last time they wouldn’t dare come even three blocks from this place again. Even the memory of John’s voice barking at them in the middle of the night has the hair on the back of Dean’s neck prickling, _again._ His dad can be downright scary when he wants to. But damn, the speed that those kids had bolted back over the fence with was impressive. 

Slowly, Dean crouches and grabs the baseball bat from under the counter. John had wanted to keep a shotgun there, but Ellen had convinced him that probably wouldn’t be best in a motel (under the bar in the Roadhouse, though, Dean would bet the Impala that Ellen’s packing). Adjusting his grip on the handle, Dean slips out from behind the desk and slinks towards the slider. 

His heartbeat hammering in his ears, Dean approaches the door at an angle, so anyone out there wouldn’t be able to see him behind the glass in the brightly lit lobby. Still, he feels uncomfortably exposed, and he swallows. His uneasiness crests and peaks, but he won’t admit to himself that he’s pretty freaked out. Dean knows he can hold his own in a fight, but even thinking that is ridiculous, because as soon as these kids see him they’re gonna run - if it is just kids out there. He tries to convince himself that he has no reason to believe they’re _not_ just kids, but in reality the last time something weird was happening in the pool, there was an honest to god fucking _sea monster_ in it.

Clutching the bat in one hand, Dean reaches the other out towards the switch on the wall for the floodlight that illuminates the entire pool deck. Wait - if there was someone out there, wouldn’t they have triggered the motion sensor on the light? Dean thinks this, and then hears a _splash_ very clearly through the glass, and he flicks the swtich on, bathing the deck with light, and he thinks he’s gonna have a heart attack, and - 

Nothing. There’s no one out there. 

Dean unlocks the door and drags it open, stepping onto the deck. His eyes scan wildly, but he sees nothing and the only sound is of his own breathing, labored with adrenaline. 

What the fuck? He definitely heard people out here.

But the only movement he catches is from an umbrella, the edge of its canopy lifting a little in the soft breeze. The pool, which his notices Rufus had finished filling, is completely still. He was sure he heard a splash, but the surface of the water is ice-flat, with no sign of any disturbance. Not even a ripple. 

Dean shakes his head. He’s losing it. He finds one damn merman and now he thinks every sound at night is something in his pool. But when he tries to think of an excuse for the noises he knows he heard, he comes up with nothing. With one last glance around, Dean bites his lip and goes back inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

Obviously, he’s grateful he didn’t find anyone (or anything) outside, but Dean can’t help but feel unsettled. He drags the heel of his hand roughly across his ribs, but his stomach just goes on twisting. Dean chews his lip until he tastes blood. 

Too agitated to sit still, he spends the remaining time of his shift alternating between sitting and tapping the bat against his leg and pacing behind the desk. He nearly forgets that some lady in room twelve asked for a 5:15 wake-up call, and is two minutes late when he picks up the phone and dials her room. 

The lady turns out to be a grumpy bitch in the morning, which doesn’t help Dean’s mood at all. 

When Ellen comes through the automatic doors at 5:25, Dean just about jumps out of his skin, he’s so on edge. 

“Easy there, Dean,” she says, coming behind the desk and setting down her purse. Dean’s face must look about as freaked as it feels, because she frowns at him. “You alright, sweetheart?”

He tries to school his expression into something a little more normal. “Uh, yeah,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m good. Just - tired.” 

“Well, you can get on outta here now and get some sleep, honey,” Ellen smiles softly at him, and Dean glances away. Something about Ellen always gets to him - how she looks at you has a way of making you feel so much better but so much worse at the same time, like you want to let her hug you but you know it’s probably not a good idea because it might make you cry embarrassingly. It’s probably that rough-around-the-edges but soft-and-motherly-on-the-inside thing she’s got going on. Dean’s always felt about equally afraid of her and like he wants her to brush her fingers over his hair, and it freaks him out. And right now, with his stomach in knots and his heart still lodged halfway up with throat, he feels a little too fragile to be coddled. 

“Yeah,” Dean discreetly slides the bat back under the counter as Ellen flips through the check-in book. “Yeah, I’m gonna do that. Thanks, Ellen.”

“Sure, sweetie. Oh, by the way, Jo and I are drivin’ down to Assateague for the day on Tuesday if you’d like to come. We’re leavin’ early, but Sam said he’d join us.” 

“Uh - maybe, Ellen,” Dean shuffles through the swinging half-door. “I told Bobby I’d work a shift for him Tuesday.”

“No worries,” she smiles at him. “If Bobby don’t need you, you’re more than welcome with us. Your new friend can come too, if he wants.”

 _Fucking Joanna Beth_ , Dean thinks. 

“Yeah, I’ll - I’ll ask him. I’ll see you later, Ellen.” 

Dean slips out of the automatic doors before wondering about whether or not Ellen will think it’s weird he didn’t go right back to the apartment, but he’s too distracted to care. Once outside, he has to stop and lean against the building for a minute. He concentrates on the dimly lightening sky as he draws air into his lungs. When he feels like he’s got himself more under control, he heads for room one. 

The door’s unlocked, and Dean only has a second to worry that Cas might be asleep before he bursts into the bathroom. 

There’s a soft slosh as Cas startles, and Dean wants to apologize but he’s having a little trouble catching his breath. 

“Dean,” Cas says, and he sounds relieved, as if he was worried it was going to be someone else. If Dean weren’t so preoccupied with the way his heart is attempting to come through his chest, and his stomach is squeezing so hard he can’t breathe, he would’ve noticed how Cas had paled a bit when he had barged in. 

“Dean,” Cas repeats, but now he sounds worried. Shit, Dean’s freaking him out. 

“Yeah,” Dean gasps, and he rakes his fingers across his sternum. 

“Are you alright?” Cas sits up, his tail curling, water splashing softly over the side of the tub and onto the tile. 

“No - yeah, I’m fine,” Dean nods, his breath catching on every inhale. He’s fine, he just needs a second. Fuck, please just let him breathe, before Cas thinks he’s losing it. Before he _does_ lose it. “I’m okay. I just - sorry - ” 

Dean concentrates and lets his breath out slow, forcing it to come out smoothly and not in a panicked burst. It works, miraculously, and he leans over the sink and gets another lungful in, which feels better than the last. 

“Dean, come here.”

Dean shakes his head and waves a hand at Cas, keeping his head bowed. “No, I’m okay.”

“I can help you.” 

“I got it, Cas,” Dean assures, and it feels like the truth this time as his heart rate slows to a less frantic pace. He counts four more breaths before straightening up, feeling a little more solidly himself. Glancing through his lashes at Cas, he says, a little sheepishly, “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head, still looking concerned. “No need to apologize.”

Dean sits on the lid of the toilet. 

“You’re… alright, now?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Sorry, I just - got a little worked up. I’m okay.” 

“Worked up? Over what?” Cas asks carefully. 

“Nothing. It was nothing, I - I do that, sometimes.” Dean avoids Cas’s gaze, embarrassed now. He should’ve waited longer outside before coming in, he should’ve known he wasn’t feeling right yet before letting Cas see him like that. 

Dean swallows. “Anyway,” he tries to change the subject. “I’m surprised you’re awake.” 

“Oh. Yes, I haven’t been for long, though.”

“You sleep okay?” Dean tries his best to ignore the uneasiness he still feels itching at the back of his brain. 

“Fine, thank you. How was your shift?”

Dean shrugs. “It was fine.”

“You must be tired.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “A little. I’m gonna go sleep for a bit. I just wanted to check on you.” 

“I’m okay here,” Cas assures. “Thank you for coming by.” 

“Okay,” Dean says, and realizes too late that that wasn’t really the proper response. There’s too long a pause before he awkwardly adds, “You’re welcome.” 

“Dean, are you sure you’re alright?” Cas frowns, still worried. 

Dean nods. His stomach aches dully. 

“Dean.”

“Yeah.” 

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” 

Cas glances down at Dean’s hand, where he’s digging his thumb sharply between his ribs. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. He drops his hand to his lap.

“Oh. It’s nothing.” Even Dean admits that sounded terribly not reassuring, and Cas just looks at him. Dean swallows. “I, um… I get stomach aches, is all.”

Cas waits for him to elaborate, and Dean licks his lips anxiously. 

“When I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous now?”

“A little.” 

Cas regards him quietly, and Dean is grateful he doesn’t ask something like “ _why?_ ” or “ _nervous about what?_ ” because Dean doesn’t _know_. He hardly ever knows. 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you do that,” Cas says. 

“Yeah. It - ” Dean swallows again. “It makes me feel better. Sometimes.” 

“How long have you… had stomach aches?”

Dean shrugs, a little wildly. “Since I was a kid.” 

“Does your father know?”

Dean frowns. “My dad’s always had enough of his own shit to worry about. Really, Cas, it’s not a big deal - ”

“Does it hurt? When you do that?”

“It’s - ” Dean tries to think of the right word. “- distracting. But it’s fine. You don’t need to - ”

“Dean,” Cas sounds cautious, and his change in tone draws Dean up short. His stomach pangs again, knowing he’s not going to like what Cas has to say. “Yesterday, on the beach, I noticed… bruises. Small ones, along your ribs. Are those… from this?” 

Dean breathes, and he avoids looking at Cas. The bruises are tiny, and they’re usually not noticeable, and they’re not a big deal. 

“Sam says you ‘have anxiety’.”

Dean cuts his eyes to Cas sharply. “You two talked about me?” 

“Only briefly. I hope you’re not upset. Your brother cares very deeply about you,” Cas says sincerely. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Sam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Well, he was very adamantly defensive of you. He wanted me to promise that I wouldn’t hurt you - ”

“Oh, my god.”

“ - which I assured him, I wouldn’t, and I don’t know why he thought that was my intention - ”

Dean drops his face into his palm, flushing. 

“He was being a punk,” Dean says. “Please don’t listen to anything that comes out of that kid’s mouth.”

“Well,” Cas says. “He cares about you, is all.”

Dean peeks through his fingers to find Cas looking at him almost tenderly. “Yeah,” Dean says. “I know.” 

“I do, too,” Cas says simply, and something catches in the back of Dean’s throat. “I know we haven’t - know each other very long.” It’s Cas’s turn to glance away sheepishly, and Dean thinks it’s the first time he’s seen the expression on his face. “But I care about you, too.” 

Dean takes a breath. 

“And I want you to tell me if you need anything. Alright?” 

Dean swallows. Not trusting his voice, he can only nod. Cas smiles, softly. 

***

The weekend passes sluggishly, and the weather only gets hotter. It’s a good thing the pool was finished by Saturday morning, because there are people in it every day, from open to close. Jo had been right when she’d predicted that the Bunker wouldn’t fill up completely, but it comes pretty close. Dean notices some familiar faces, people who tend to stay at their motel every summer, but there are also some new folks, touristy-looking types who most likely came from out of state. Why they chose ‘Ocean Shitty’ as their getaway destination, Dean isn’t sure. He guesses if you don’t live here all year round, it might have more of an appeal. The fact that he doesn’t like the ocean might have something to do with why he wouldn’t choose this location though, too. 

Dean asks John for grocery money on Saturday, and Sam and Cas come along. He vetoes the sugary cereal Sam picks out, but lets him get popsicles instead. 

“Let’s get two boxes,” Sam says. “It’s gonna be like a thousand degrees the next couple days.”

After briefly contemplating the forty dollars John had given him, Dean nods. He can make it work. “Fine. Only two bags of chips, then.” Sam grins and drops the popsicles in the cart. “Go get bread, too. I’ll go through the meat section and see you back at the front.”

“Okay. C’mon, Cas,” Sam says as they walk away. “You wanna pick out one of the chips?” 

It’s not the first time Dean’s noticed Sam including Cas on their food plans, or trying to feed him, and he finds it kind of interesting. He considers it for a moment before realizing he’s standing like an idiot in the middle of the aisle. Shaking his head, he turns the cart around and heads for the deli. 

At the front, he finds Cas and his brother looking at the candy, each with a bag of chips. Sam chose Doritos, which Dean expected, and Cas chose… cheddar bacon mac and cheese flavored Lay’s.

“Ew, Cas,” Dean grabs the bag from him and looks at the front. “What the fuck?”

“Sam said I could choose,” Cas says defensively, snatching the bag back with a scowl. “I like bacon, and I like mac and cheese. This is both.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam takes a KitKat bar from the shelf with a hopeful expression, but Dean shakes his head. “No. Put it back.”

Sam pouts all the way to the register. 

The three of them start putting the groceries on the belt before Dean notices who the cashier is.

“Hey, Dean.” 

Dean’s met with a pair of giant brown eyes, and he freezes. 

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “Hey, Cassie.” 

Sam sniggers behind him, and Dean resists the urge to kick him in the shin because there’s no way Cassie doesn’t hear him. He could be projecting, here, but he thinks she blushes pink, high on her light brown cheekbones. 

“Hey, Sam,” she says, and Sam waves. Cassie starts scanning their groceries, and Dean tries his best to not feel uncomfortable. “How’s your summer going?”

“It’s good, you know,” Dean rubs the back of his neck and keeps his gaze down, watching her hands work. “How ‘bout you?”

“You’re lookin’ at it,” she says with a wry smile, and Dean thinks she might be trying to avoid making eye contact with him, too. She looks to Cas, instead. “Hey. You new around here?”

Cas nods in Dean’s peripheral vision. “Yes.” 

“Uh, Cassie, this is my friend… Cas.” Dean winces. To her credit, the only change in Cassie’s expression is a slight quirk of her eyebrows, and she glances between them. Dean’s suddenly aware of how Cas is standing just a bit too close behind him. 

“Oh,” she says. Yeah, she’s definitely blushing. “Nice meeting you.” 

“You as well,” Cas nods politely, completely oblivious, and Dean is for sure uncomfortable now. 

“Um, thirty-seven eighteen,” she says. 

“Huh?” Dean asks stupidly. 

“Your total. Thirty-seven eighteen.”

“Oh. Right,” Dean thrusts the cash at her. “Here.” 

When she hands over his change, Dean is careful to avoid brushing her hand with his. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

“Sure.” She passes over their bags, which Sam takes. “I’ll see you guys around, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “See you.” 

As soon as they’re out of the sliding doors and in the parking lot, Sam absolutely loses it. 

“Oh my _god_ , that was awkward,” he exclaims with a grin. “Seriously, Dean, could you have been any _worse?_ ” 

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean shoves him, blushing fiercely. 

“Watch it, jerk, I got the groceries!”

“I don’t understand,” Cas says with a frown. “What was wrong?” 

“Dean and Cassie _dated,_ ” Sam is way too delighted about this whole thing. “Last fall.”

“Sam, I said shut it!” Dean unlocks the Impala as they come up to it. 

“But she _broke up with him_ ,” Sam tells Cas, giving him a pointed look. “Not to mention you and her have the same _name_ , which is just _hilarious_ \- ”

Cas’s frown deepens. “Cassie is short for Castiel, too?”

Sam cracks up, and Dean glares daggers at him over the hood of the Impala. 

“Knowing Dean’s luck, it prob’ly is,” Sam chides. 

“ _Get in the car_ ,” Dean growls with a point at the backseat, and though Sam is still snickering, he does as he’s told. 

As they pull away, Sam says, “We totally had enough money for that KitKat, by the way.”

Sunday and Monday are both so hot that none of them want to do anything. Both days, Dean wakes up from sleeping after the night shift to find Cas and Sam just lying around and (Cas, more than Sam) bitching about the weather. 

“I don’t understand,” Cas says at some point. “How do you live like this?”

He’s sprawled across the couch, Sam in the armchair and Dean on the floor, all of them with popsicles. 

“I think I’m dying,” he deadpans. 

Dean rolls his eyes. He’s been trying to avoid watching Cas eat that fucking popsicle. “You’re not dying.”

“No. I am.”

“It’s this hot every summer, Cas,” Sam says. “How are you not used to it?”

“How could you possibly get used to this?” Cas sounds genuinely concerned. 

“He’s just being a baby,” Dean says, and Cas glares at him. It doesn’t have much of an effect, however, being that it’s upside-down with the way his head is hanging backwards over the edge of the couch. It only makes Dean smile. 

“I am not. I need another popsicle.” 

Dean gets it for him. 

Luckily, room one stays open throughout the weekend. Cas insists that the bathtub is fine, but when John tells Dean that he has the night shift Monday night, as well, Dean feels bad that Cas has to be stuck in there for four nights in a row. 

Each night, however, Cas says he feels less and less like he needs to use the tub at all. By Monday night, he’s insisting he can wait for the next day, keeping his legs for the whole night, but Dean’s nervous that he’ll get sick when he doesn’t have someone to help him, so Cas agrees to utilize room one for a last time. 

“Tomorrow night, you can use the pool. I promise,” Dean had assured, and Cas had nodded. 

When it finally hits five-thirty on Tuesday morning, Dean never wants to work another night shift again. While it was nice that the motel had mostly cleared out by Monday afternoon, as everyone had to go back to work the next day, it made for an incredibly dull eight hours. There were no strange noises outside like the first night, though, and he’s grateful for that. 

Cas is still asleep when Dean makes it into the bathroom of room one, his head tipped gently against the side of the tub. Not wanting to disturb him, Dean’s about to head to his own bed when Cas stirs. Their eyes meet as Cas wakes. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean smiles and enters the bathroom, settling on the floor next to the tub. 

“Was work okay?” Cas asks. 

“Boring, but it was fine. I’m glad the weekend’s over.”

Cas nods. “I’m glad, too. It’ll be nice for you to be able to sleep through the night.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me,” Dean says. “Hey, listen, you know how that guy Bobby called me yesterday?” 

Cas nods. 

“Well he was callin’ to tell me that the seats came in for the car that I’m fixin’ up, so I was gonna go by there today and put them in. You’re welcome to come, if - if you want to,” Dean tries not to look too hopeful. 

“I would love to,” Cas says pleasantly. “You’re fixing a car?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Bobby gave it to me for graduation. It’s gonna be so sweet when it’s done - it’s not running, yet, but I’ll get it there.” 

Dean can’t help himself. Once he’s started on talking about the Roadrunner he can’t stop, and he hardly notices that he’s chattering excitedly while Cas listens intently, though at times he probably has no idea what Dean’s talking about. 

When Dean looks at his watch, he’s shocked to find it’s almost seven am and he’s been talking for all that time. 

“Oh, shit. It’s like seven o’clock. I’m gonna get some sleep. After you dry off, come to the apartment and make yourself some cereal or something.” 

“Alright. Thank you,” Cas says as Dean stands. “I’m looking forward to meeting Bobby. And Frazier.” 

“Yeah,” Dean smiles. “Frazier’ll love you. He’s huge, but he’s real friendly.” 

Dean doesn’t even have time to regret staying and talking, but if he had just left when he saw Cas was still sleeping, it never would’ve happened. Maybe it would’ve, eventually, because his little brother is a nosy bitch and is too smart for his own good, but Dean was hoping to delay this conversation at least just a _little_ longer. 

But he’s not that lucky. Just as Dean opens his mouth to say goodbye, he hears the door to the motel room shutting at the same time that Cas’s eyes flick to the doorway and a mortified expression comes over his face. 

Dean spins. _Fuck_.

There’s Sam in the doorway, gaping like a fish, his backpack at his feet where he dropped it in shock. Dean stands uselessly in the middle of the bathroom, and Cas lies in the tub, his clothes in a neat pile on the toilet lid and his freaking tail, shimmering and gigantic, dangling over the edge and almost touching the tile. 

Dean lifts his hands placatingly, trying to think of something to say, before Sam exclaims,

“ _What the fuck?_ ”

Dean doesn’t blame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas discuss Dean's habit of digging his fingers into his ribs, and Dean explains that it makes him feel better when his stomach aches with anxiety. Cas mentions bruises he notices along Dean's ribcage, a result of his habit.


	5. bobby's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charli is amazing as always for looking over this chapter! xo

“Oh, my god.” 

“Sam. We can explain this.” 

“Oh, _my god_ ,” Sam runs his hands through his uncombed hair.

“Okay, actually, we can’t really explain, but - ” 

“You - ” Sam points at Cas. “You - Cas, you’re - ”

“Okay, let me _try_ and explain - ”

“I’m a merman,” Cas says. 

All three of them fall silent. It’s so quiet in the bathroom that Dean can hear the morning traffic on the highway outside. 

Hands held up in the space in front of him like he can somehow physically stop this entire thing from happening, Dean casts his eyes between Sam and Cas. Sam, mouth hanging open and eyes as wide as saucers, and Cas, apparently calm as can be, simply waiting for whatever is going to happen next. 

“You’re a _merman_ ,” Sam finally says. “Like - from the ocean. You have a _tail_.”

“Yes,” Castiel says simply. 

“Sammy, don’t freak out,” Dean tries to sound reassuring. 

“Holy shit, guys,” Sam says breathlessly, and Dean winces. 

“I know, Sam, this is kinda nuts. This is - ”

“This - this is - ” Sam stutters, and Dean waits with dread for the bomb to blow. Here it comes - he mentally braces himself, and - “This. Is. _Awesome!_ ” 

Dean blinks. Cas frowns. 

“Huh?” 

Sam’s face splits into a huge grin. “This is _so freaking cool!_ ” 

Dean and Cas exchange equally bewildered looks, and Sam traipses into the bathroom, practically bouncing on his feet. 

“Look at you! You’re a merman! Oh my god!” His hair flops over his forehead in his excitement, and he stares down at Castiel’s tail. “Wow!” 

“Well, that coulda gone worse,” Dean mutters. 

“Cas, your tail is so badass, man,” Sam exclaims. 

“Thank you,” Cas says, sounding pleased. 

“It’s _huge_. How long is it?” Sam crouches down by the tub to get a closer look. 

“Well, I’ve never actually measured it, but I would say probably about seven feet.” 

Dean rolls his eyes at that. 

“How long can you hold your breath underwater?”

“Well, technically I don’t have to hold my breath. I have gills.” 

“ _Seriously?_ ” Cas tilts his head to show them, and Dean thinks Sam might have a freakin’ nerdy aneurysm blow. “Wow! How fast can you swim? Faster than a shark?” 

“What kind of shark?”

“Can you speak whale?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, as if that were a ridiculous question, and Sam balks. 

“Are there other merpeople?”

“Yes.” 

“Do they know you’re here? Why _are_ you here? How long are you gonna stay - ”

“Alright, Sam, that’s enough,” Dean finally cuts him off. “You’re giving _me_ a headache.”

“I _knew_ you guys were hiding something,” Sam straightens up and points an accusatory finger at Dean’s chest. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you jerks!” 

“Yeah, well, I can’t say I knew how to bring it up, exactly,” Dean says.

“I still can’t believe this,” Sam shakes his head in wonder. “Wow, Cas, it makes so much more sense now - I couldn’t _believe_ you’d never been to an arcade, but you know, you really do have a good excuse.” 

Dean’s casts his eyes towards the ceiling. 

“Wait a second - is this why you wouldn’t get in the water at the beach?” A look of understanding crosses Sam’s face. “Is it, like, the water that makes the tail come back?” Seriously - too smart for his own good. 

“Yes,” Cas nods. “When I dry off, my tail becomes legs, but I only have them as long as they don’t get wet - ”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Sam says suddenly. “Did you _talk_ to Bones? You speak _goldfish?_ ”

Just then, the muffled sound of Ellen’s voice calls Sam’s name from somewhere outside. 

“Shit.”

“ _Language_ , Sam.” 

“Ellen’s lookin’ for me, we’re going to Assateague.” Sam backs towards the doorway, and he scoops up his backpack from the floor. “I can’t _believe_ this. I can’t believe it.” 

“Sam,” Dean says seriously. “You _cannot_ tell anyone about this. You got it?”

Sam rolls his eyes dramatically, slinging his bag over his skinny shoulder. “ _Duh_. Geez, Dean, you think I’m an idiot?”

“I’m just making sure, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Halfway out the door, Sam turns back. “This conversation is _so_ not over, guys. I’ve got a _lot_ more questions.”

“Yeah, whatever, Sammy. Get outta here before Ellen comes lookin’ for you.” 

“I’ll be back tonight. Wow, this is amazing. Bye, guys. _Wow_.” Sam slams out of the motel room. 

For a moment, Dean and Cas regard one another in the hush after Sam’s departure. Finally, Cas starts to chuckle. Shaking his head in disbelief at the entire situation, Dean can’t help but smile too. 

“I thought that went quite well,” Cas says. 

“Dude,” Dean rubs a weary hand over his face. “I need a friggin’ nap.” 

***

_“See my baby, tell her hurry on home.”_

“Cas, hand me that, would you?” 

_“Had no lovin’ since my baby been gone.”_

“No, not that, _that_. Yeah. Hand me that.”

Dean’s got sweat dripping off the end of his nose, and it’s driving him crazy. Almost there - Dean grunts, wrestling to get the bench seat in place. 

_“Uh-huh, see my baby, tell her hurry on home.”_

“Will you hold that down on that side? Yeah, just like that. I’ve almost got it - there.” 

Dean contorts himself into the footwell with the wrench and tightens the bolts down. 

_“I ain’t had, Lord, my right mind...”_

“Here, take this, Cas. Tighten those bolts down, just like I just did.” 

_“...since my rider’s been gone.”_

“Like this?” 

“Yeah, Cas, just like that, that’s good.” 

“I think they’re tight.”

“Perfect.”

Dean groans as he straightens up, unfolding himself from the cramped position. He twists, making his back pop all the way up his spine. He can feel his shirt sticking to his chest and lower back with sweat, and he has half a mind to just take it off as he looks across the hood at Cas, who’s watching him with dark eyes. Robert Plant continues to croon through the speakers of the old radio Dean had pulled out of Bobby’s garage. 

“Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Dean turns to the box of engine parts that Bobby had collected for him. Now’s a better time than any to get to sorting them. 

“Hopefully there’s something in here that’ll help me,” Dean shuffles a few things around and Cas comes up behind him to peer over his shoulder. Dean kneels on the ground and starts making piles, from things he knows he needs, to maybe needs, to junk. 

Cas eventually loses interest and ambles over to where Frazier lays flat-out in the dirt and plops down next to him. The dog lifts his head, his tail flopping in greeting. 

“Hello,” Dean hears Castiel murmur, and he smiles to himself. 

Castiel eventually starts complaining, but in all honesty he lasted longer than Dean thought he would.

“It’s so _hot_ out.” Cas has his eyes squinted against the sun, leaning back in the dirt with an arm slung over the dog. Dean tries to ignore him. “Aren’t you hot?”

“No,” Dean says over his shoulder. “I feel great.” 

“I can _see_ you sweating.” 

“I like it.”

“You’re a liar. How could anyone enjoy this?” 

“Sit in the shade, then, Cas.” 

Cas grumbles petulantly, but Dean hears him get up from the ground. “I’ll try out your new seats. C’mon, Frazier.” 

That makes Dean turn, and he points an old crankshaft at Cas. “No dogs in the car.” 

Cas makes a face. Dean tells himself he watches Cas clamber into the car and sprawl out on the front seat to be sure he doesn’t invite the dog in with him. Definitely not because of the view he’s afforded of Cas’s ass as he does it. 

Dean turns back to his work. 

“It’s very comfortable,” Cas calls from inside the car, all the doors flung open wide. “And much cooler.”

When he doesn’t answer, Cas says, “Dean.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“I like the seats.” 

Dean sighs. Accepting he’s not getting anywhere with the engine parts at the moment, he tosses down an oil pan that has a hole rusted through it and stands, brushing dirt from his knees. Dean meanders over to the car and rests a forearm across the top of the open doorway, leaning in. 

“Yeah?” 

Cas nods. He’s stretched across the bench on his back, an arm folded under his head and his legs splayed distractingly. His shoes have been kicked off into the footwell.

Dean smacks at his shin. “Scoot over.” 

Cas drags himself up from where he’s taking up the entire front bench. Settling in behind the steering wheel, Dean has to agree that the seats are quite comfortable. He’ll have to let Bobby know he picked good ones. A glance at Cas shows him slouched in the passenger seat, head tipped back against the headrest and face tilted towards Dean. He’s got his feet up on the dashboard, but since he’s just in his socks, Dean lets it slide. 

“I’m melting.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re not.” 

“It feels like it.” 

“You’ll be okay.” 

“Bobby seems like a good person.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles. “He is.” 

“You’ve known him a long time?” Cas picks absently at a thread at the hem of his shirt, and Dean watches his long fingers. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “My whole life, really. He and my dad were friends the first time we lived here.” 

“Your father,” Cas starts, sounding careful. “He went away?” 

Dean looks at Cas sharply to find him with a rueful expression. 

“I saw the note he left on the kitchen table,” Cas says. “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

Mulling over his words for a moment, Dean squints out the windshield at the dusty salvage yard. “No, it’s okay. He left late last night, I guess. He said he’ll just be gone a few days.” 

“Does he go away a lot?” 

Dean casts a glance at Cas out of the corner of his eye, not sure if he wants to have this conversation. He shrugs. 

 

“Every so often.” 

“Where does he go?” 

Dean blows his breath out in a burst. “I don’t know. I mean, sometimes he says where he’s going. But I don’t know, if he doesn’t, I don’t ask.” 

He can see Cas frowning in his peripheral vision. He sighs. 

“Look, my dad - he doesn’t like to sit still. That’s why we moved around so much those five years we were gone. It freaks him out, I don’t know.” 

“Oh.”

Maybe not, but Dean thinks he hears disapproval in Cas’s tone, and it bothers him. 

“It’s not his fault,” Dean says, suddenly feeling the need to defend his father. “After my mom, he… he wasn’t really the same. He dragged us around the country ‘cuz he didn’t feel safe in one place, and he didn’t know what else to do.”

“What about you?” Cas asks. Dean frowns at him, confused.

“What about me?” 

“You were very young, after your mother passed. Migrating so much like that, it couldn’t have been easy for you,” Cas sounds sincere, and it makes Dean scoff. 

“No, it was fine,” Dean doesn’t look at Cas. He resists the urge to dig his nails into his side, and he doesn’t think about having words stuck in his guts, fluttering and gnawing, for that first year that he was silent. As a seven-year-old, he remembers that’s how it had felt. John had tried everything to entice him to talk, and he _wanted_ to, he did. He wanted to, because he knew how much John wanted him to, _needed_ him to, but he _couldn’t_. His stomach had been full of words and they were trapped there, twisting and squeezing to get out but he didn’t know how to let them go. “I was - I was young, yeah, but I had Sammy. Sammy was my job, and I knew that, and I could take care of him because I knew my dad needed me to.” 

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Cas observes, and now Dean’s frustrated. 

“It’s complicated, Cas, okay? I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Dean says, and it comes out louder and more harsh than he intended it to. He takes a calming breath, and lowers his voice a bit. “Listen… I know some of the shit that went on back then was fucked up, okay? I can forgive him for all of that.”

Staring resolutely out the front window, Dean focuses on the sunshine glinting off an old Volkswagen as he talks. “Growin’ up, he would leave sometimes, and I’d be in charge. And sometimes, the money would run out, and we wouldn’t always have enough to eat, but I made it work. That was my job. And he _always_ came back. _Always_. I know he was just doin’ his best.”

The words come out of his mouth sounding like Cas isn’t the only one he’s trying to convince, and Dean hates himself for it. Finally, he looks at Cas, who’s watching him somberly. 

“Why did you come back here?” Cas asks eventually. “In the end, what made your father decide to return?” 

Dean allows himself to breathe for a minute or two. He regrets this stupid conversation ever starting - he doesn’t talk about this shit for a reason. Not even with Sammy. _Especially_ not with Sammy. 

“There was…” Dean swallows. “Something happened. When we were livin’ in Iowa. I was twelve, Sammy was six. He was a couple months into the first grade, I remember that.” He throws Cas a glance, who’s listening patiently. “My dad, he - he left for just a couple days. I was s’posed to take Sammy to school, and pick him up, and get him fed, and it was gonna be easy, but - ” Dean clears his throat. “My dad was on his way back, and he was stayin’ somewhere shady for the night, and he got jumped outside a bar. The scumbag took his wallet, so no one at the hospital could identify him for the ten days he was unconscious.” 

“And you and Sam?” Cas asks quietly. 

Dean shakes his head. “Rent was due the end of the week, of course, and the landlord was a prick. He threatened to call CPS, so I grabbed Sammy and got the hell outta there.” 

“Where did you go?” 

“Not far,” Dean shrugs. “I knew my dad would be back, and he’d be lookin’ for us, so I couldn’t go far. He finally woke up, a week later, and I don’t wanna know the shitstorm he kicked up in the hospital,” he chuckles, but Cas doesn’t crack a smile. Dean gnaws his lip. “Anyway, he called Bobby, and Bobby flew out there and found us, ‘cuz my dad was still useless on his feet. But he convinced my dad to move us back, after that.” 

“Where’d Bobby find you?” 

Dean hesitates. He swallows. “I had Sammy and me holed up in some old guy’s shed in his backyard.”

“For a _week_ ,” Cas growls, and Dean’s startled to hear the anger in his voice. He’s never heard Cas pissed before. “You were a child.” 

“I was _twelve_. I had it under control,” Dean says defensively, but Cas just shakes his head and turns his face away, his jaw clenched. 

“You both could’ve died,” Cas says to the open passenger door.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t,” Dean grumbles. “It’s in the past. It was an accident, and we’re here now, and things are fine.” 

Cas turns back to him, and Dean resists the urge to cringe at how unconvincing he sounds. 

“I told you,” Dean keeps his gaze trained at his lap. “He was doing his best, and I can forgive him for the movin’ around, all that stuff…” 

Dean knows Cas hears the ‘ _but_ ’ that’s in there, loud and clear, but he doesn’t press. He waits for Dean to elaborate. 

“But,” Dean picks at a string coming off the in-seam of his jeans. “I think…” 

He’s never said the words out loud before. Saying them is like an admission, like in acknowledging it he’ll make it true. He kind of feels sick, all of a sudden.

“I think he’s got another kid.” 

Hearing it come out of his mouth makes it feel like ice water’s been dumped down his spine. Cas’s eyes bore into the side of his face, but he avoids looking at him, instead watching his foot as he toes at the open driver’s side door, making it rock on its hinges. 

“I found a picture in his wallet, about a year ago, of him and some kid at a baseball game.” He shakes his head. “A friggin’ _baseball game_.” A laugh escapes through his lips, but it’s jagged and hard and devoid of any humor. “And on the back, in _his_ fucking handwriting, it said: ‘Adam’s eighth birthday.’ You believe that shit?” 

Dean doesn’t really know why he’s saying all this, but now he can’t stop. Maybe it’s because Cas is a good listener, quiet and attentive. Maybe just because it’s Cas. He doesn’t know what that means. 

“I couldn’t fucking tell you about my eighth birthday. Which is fine, I don’t give a shit, but if all that time when me and Sammy were growin’ up, and he was leaving - ” Dean’s suddenly afraid to voice his fear. He’s hardly even let the complete thought develop in his head, let alone say it out loud. “The idea that he was going off to - to be with - to spend time - ” Abruptly, there’s a dull burn in the back of his eyes, and Dean blinks furiously to dispel it before something ridiculous happens like he fucking _tears up_. “He took him to a fucking _baseball game_ , Cas.”

Dean chews at a thumbnail and stares out the windshield, his chest tight and his stomach hurting, filled with something that he wishes were anger but feels a lot like grief. He jumps when there’s a warm touch to the back of his hand which he didn’t realize was digging at his ribs, and he looks down just as Cas is covering his hand with his own. Cas tangles his fingers with Dean’s, and Dean doesn’t stop him. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says quietly, and it’s so fucking earnest and so fucking genuine that Dean almost can’t take it. Dean stares into his wide, honest eyes, and takes all the comfort from him that he can. 

“The kid kinda looked like me,” Dean says lowly. 

Cas squeezes his fingers on the bench between them, and a warmth, a glow, blossoms from Cas’s hand. It spreads to Dean’s, who gasps softly, feeling it diffuse through him. The tightness in his chest eases somewhat, becomes a little gentler, and his stomach loosens until it’s not tied so tautly into knots. The ache inside him lessens until it’s dull enough to ignore, and he breathes easier.

“Thank you,” Dean whispers. 

“It’s the least I can do,” Cas says. 

“You don’t have to do anything.” 

“I want to.”

They sit quietly for several minutes, in a car that doesn’t run, with a dog snoring on the ground outside and their hands intertwined between them. Cas skims his thumb across Dean’s knuckles, impossibly gently, and Dean lifts his eyes to meet his. They regard one another for a long moment, Castiel’s eyes looking lighter than Dean’s ever seen them. 

“Can I kiss you?” Cas asks softly. 

Dean swallows. He flicks his eyes over Cas’s face, once. He nods. 

Cas hesitates, as if to make sure Dean isn’t going to take it back, but then he leans into Dean’s space. His other hand comes up unexpectedly, and Dean almost flinches as is settles against his jaw, but he forces himself to be still. He can’t help but tip his head into the touch, Cas’s thumb brushing his lower lip, as the space between them narrows. 

Their lips brush, barely, just as the screen door on the house slams against its frame. 

They both startle, jumping back from one another. Dean tugs his hand back and looks around wildly at Bobby, who’s coming down his porch steps. He’s got a can of coke in each hand. 

“Hey, boys,” Bobby calls, and Dean scrambles from the car, almost falling on his face. 

“Yeah, Bobby, hey,” Dean says, too quickly, voice way too high. 

Bobby comes up short before making it to them, suddenly suspicious. He scans the situation - there’s Dean, who’s trying in vain to appear nonchalant, leaning against the open car door but whose his face absolutely burning - and there’s Cas, who hasn’t even gotten out of the passenger seat and whose eyes are darting nervously back and forth from Dean to Bobby. 

“I was just,” Bobby gestures with the sodas. “Bringin’ you boys somethin’ to drink.”

“Cool,” Dean says. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Thank you,” Cas says. 

“Sure thing…” Bobby sets them down on the stool next to the radio. “How’s the car comin’?”

“It’s - good. We got the seats put in, and they’re - you know, good.” 

“Well, that’s…” Bobby glances again from one guilty-looking boy to the other. “Good.”

Dean nods. 

“Anyway, Dean, I’ve got somethin’ came in the mail for you in the house. If you wanna take a look,” Bobby says. 

“Sure, yeah,” Dean clears his throat, pushing off from where he was leaning on the door. “Cas, I’m gonna - ”

“Okay,” Cas nods. 

Inside, Bobby leads the way through the cluttered house to the kitchen. He’s got what looks like several days’ worth of mail spread across the table. 

“This musta come in a few days ago, but I just got to the post office,” Bobby says, and he swipes an envelope from the pile. “Here.”

Bobby hands it over, and Dean looks at the front. It’s addressed to Mr. Dean Winchester, but it’s got Bobby’s address underneath, which can only mean one thing. Sure enough, the return address is for University of Maryland, College Park. Dean swallows. 

“That ain’t the first one I got, kid. I think they’re lookin’ for a response from you.” 

“Yeah,” Dean scrubs a hand over the back of his head, still staring at the envelope. “I know.” 

“They’re only gonna wait so long ‘fore they give up on you.”

“I know.” 

“I don’t wanna pressure you, but it’s gettin’ close to decision time, I think.” 

“Bobby,” Dean says, and finally looks up at him. “I know.” 

Bobby shrugs. “Sorry, kid. I know it’s your call. Just know I’ll back you, no matter what.” He claps Dean on the shoulder, who nods. 

“Thanks, Bobby. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve decided.” Without opening it, Dean folds the envelope in half and shoves it in his back pocket.

“Alright,” Bobby says, and he offers Dean a gruff smile. “Oh, I got your paycheck, here, too.” 

He passes that off to him, too. 

“I know you’re gonna bitch about it either way, so I’ll just tell you now I put a little extra on there this week - ”

“Bobby - ”

“ - but I know you’ll prob’ly spend it on your brother, anyway, so I don’t wanna hear it.” Bobby glares at him, but it isn’t very convincing. “Treat yourself, too, and your boy Cas there to some ice cream or somethin’, alright?” 

Though he rolls his eyes, Dean feels heat rise in his cheeks again. 

“Now, get back to work,” Bobby grouches. “That damn car of yours would be gettin’ done a lot faster if you were actually workin’ on it, and you weren’t so busy smoochin’ in it.” 

Dean blushes so bad he feels like his face is on fire. 

***

“So, like… were you _born_ in the ocean?”

Dean watches Sam’s ice cream melting, threatening to drip down his hand as he talks.

“Yes,” Cas responds. His ice cream does drip down his hand, and over his wrist. Dean slides some napkins at him across the table. 

“How long ago?” 

“Seventy-seven years ago,” Cas tries to eat faster than his desert is melting, and Dean finds it pretty entertaining to watch. Dean had gotten his own in a cup to avoid the very problem Cas and his brother are having, despite Sam’s disapproval and his insistence that “ _the cone is the best part, Cas, you have to get a cone_.”

“ _Seventy-seven years_ \- ” Sam says incredulously, and he looks to Dean to verify, who just shrugs. “You’re that old? You look like you’re Dean’s age.” 

“We live a long time,” Cas says.

They’re sitting at a picnic table outside the 24 hour Dairy Queen on 22nd street. It’s a nice night, hot but breezy, so they’d decided to walk there and hang out for a bit. Sam didn’t get back from his day trip with Ellen and Jo until almost ten o’clock, but the kid still had a ton of energy Dean figured he should work off. 

“How many other merpeople do you live with? A lot?”

“Sam,” Dean hisses as some kid scampers by, followed by his parents. “Keep your voice down, would you?”

“ _Sorry_ ,” Sam lowers his voice. 

“There are fifty-six in my pod, which inhabits these waters.” 

“Wow. That’s a lot. Do they know you’re here?” 

“Yes. They know.”

Between Sam and Cas, the mess they’re making on the picnic table is pretty impressive. Dean gets up for more napkins, and asks for a couple cups and spoons while he’s there. He passes them out to the two of them. 

“How come they didn’t come with you?” Sam dumps his cone in his cup and continues eating with a spoon, and Cas follows his lead. 

“Um,” Cas says. “They don’t really approve of being on land.” Dean catches him glancing at him. 

“Oh really? How come?” 

Dean shakes his head. His brother’s been going on with these questions since the second they left the Bunker. 

“They don’t really like humans,” Cas says carefully. 

“Oh. Well, that makes sense,” Sam says simply, and Dean raises his eyebrows. “We’re kinda trashing your ocean.” 

“Yes,” Cas agrees. “There’s definitely that.” 

“So how come - ”

The inquisition continues until they finish their ice cream and stand to throw out their trash. As much as Dean thinks the questions are getting a bit exhausting, he’s interested to learn so much about Castiel. It makes him realize how little he really knows about the guy. And how much Cas knows about him, in comparison. 

“Wait, so, I’m confused,” Sam says as they get on the sidewalk and start back towards the motel. “You got washed up in that big storm last week?” 

“Yes.”

“Into _our_ pool?” 

“Yes.” 

“ _Wow_ ,” Sam grins to himself. “How cool is _that_. And you found him, Dean?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. He scared the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Cas says apologetically. 

“What were you doing so close to the shore, though?” Sam asks. 

“Well,” Cas says. “We do spend a fair amount of time in shallow waters.” 

“Oh. But why are you still here? How come you didn’t go back home?”

“Um,” Cas hesitates, and Dean glances at him to find him looking awkward. “Well, I - I wanted to see what it was like, on land.” 

“That’s cool, man. How long are you staying?” 

“I haven’t… really decided,” Cas says, sounding uncomfortable. His and Dean’s eyes meet briefly over Sam’s head. 

Dean thinks it’s about time for him to step in. When Sammy opens his mouth to ask something else, no doubt even further into the realm of personal, Dean interrupts him. 

“Alright, Sammy, cool it,” Dean says. “Leave the poor guy alone. Why don’t you tell us about Assateague today with Ellen and Jo?” 

Sam’s disappointment doesn’t last too long. He’s easily distracted. Sometimes. “It was fun. One of the ponies walked all over our stuff, and the lifeguards wouldn’t let us chase it away so we just had to let it.” 

Dean smirks. “That’s pretty funny, actually.” 

“Yeah, until they got into our food and tromped all over it. We should go there again some time, and you should come, Cas. You ever seen a pony before?”

“Yes.”

Dean turns to him, surprised. “You have?” 

“You’re talking about the ponies on the island, aren’t you?” Cas asks, and Sam nods. “They swim from one island to another every year.” 

“You’ve seen them swim?” Sam sounds excited. _Great_. Dean rolls his eyes. Sam’s always wanted to drive down and see those stupid horses swim. It’s an annual tradition, for the wild ponies to get herded across the channel from Assateague Island to Chincoteague Island, where a few of them are auctioned off before the rest are guided back. 

“A few times,” Cas says. 

“Dean!” Sam says indignantly. “We’ve never got to see them swim!” 

“Sam, you don’t wanna see them swim. Watch a video of it on the internet, I’m sure you can find one.” 

“It’s not the same as the real thing,” Sam complains. 

“You’re right, it’s better. You won’t have to stand around for hours in the heat and the crowds to see them from like a mile away. That definitely does not sound like fun.”

Sam grunts. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. Did you watch it from the water, Cas?”

“Yes. It did look very crowded on the shore, if that makes you feel any better,” Cas says, and Dean throws him a grateful look. 

They come up on the Bunker, the parking lot dark and quiet. It’s finally starting to cool down - Dean’s pretty sure there’s rain in the forecast this week. 

“Can I ask like two more questions?” Sam asks. 

“Technically, that was one question,” Cas says, and Dean chuckles. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Funny, Cas,” Sam says. “So how come you were in the bathtub this morning?” 

“The legs don’t last forever, apparently,” Cas says. “I need to go in the water every once in a while.”

“And if you don’t?” 

Cas catches Dean’s eye. “I, um, get sick.”

“That sucks. How long have you got with ‘em?” Sam’s definitely over his question limit, but Dean doesn’t say anything as they file into the apartment. 

“Every day it takes longer before I start to feel bad,” Cas explains. 

“You’re building your leg tolerance,” Sam smirks, and it’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. Cas quirks his head, puzzled. 

“Alright, Sam,” Dean says, flicking on the light in the kitchen. “I’ll give you the choice. It’s eleven o’clock. You can either help me do the dishes, or you can get ready for bed. Your call.”

Sam grimaces. “I’ll go brush my teeth.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean says with a smirk. 

Sam ambles off to do his nighttime routine, and Dean regards the pile of dishes that have been building up in the sink for a few days. 

 

“Would you like any help?” 

Dean glances at Cas over his shoulder. “Nah, it’s alright. You can keep me company, though.” 

“I’d like to,” Cas says with a smile. 

Grabbing the soap from under the sink, Dean squirts a generous amount over the plates and bowls and gets to work. Beside him, Castiel hoists himself onto the counter and sits with his legs dangling, swinging gently against the cabinets. 

“You wanna go in the pool?” Dean asks. Cas shrugs. 

“I don’t think I have to. I feel normal, right now. Not even thirsty.” 

“But do you _want_ to?” Dean turns his head to look at him while he scrubs. “Would it be nice, to get to swim? You haven’t been able to in so long.” 

“Hm. Yeah, it would probably be nice,” Cas says, but he adds, “I don’t want to inconvenience you. I can probably wait until tomorrow.” 

“No, it’s not an inconvenience,” Dean insists. “Really. Lemme just finish up these dishes and we can go out there.”

Cas nods. “Okay. I’d like that.” 

Dean’s drying the last of the dishes when Sam shuffles back into the kitchen, hair wet and wearing one of their dad’s old t-shirts over his pajama pants. The only reason he’ll wear the shirt is because it was Dean’s for a while after it was John’s. 

“Are you guys stayin’ up?” He asks, looking tired.

“Not for too much longer,” Dean says as he places a stack of plates in the cupboard. 

“Are you sure?” Sam and his fear of missing out. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean says. “I’m gonna walk Cas out to the pool and then I’m going to bed.”

“Cas, you’re spending the night in the _pool?_ ” Sam’s never gonna get over this merman thing. 

“I think so, yes,” Cas says. 

“God, that is so cool,” Sam shakes his head, as if in disbelief that his life could have suddenly become so awesome. 

“Alright, nerd, I’ll see you in the morning,” Dean closes the cupboard door and reaches out before Sam can dodge away, and ruffles his hair. 

Sam swats at Dean’s hand. “Okay. Good night, guys.”

“Night, Sammy.”

“Good night, Sam,” Cas says from his perch. 

With a wave, Sam heads off to bed. 

Dean looks at Cas. “You ready?”

Cas nods and lowers himself down from the counter. 

Outside, Dean’s careful to keep close to the building so he doesn’t set off the motion light. He inches to the breaker on the side of the motel, and swings open the door. After carefully selecting the lever he wants, he flips the switch, shutting off power to the whole pool deck. 

“We just gotta be kinda quiet,” he murmurs. “I don’t know who’s working the night shift, but we don’t want them to hear us. I just shut off the motion light.” 

Together, they walk to the edge of the deep end and look down at the water. 

“You don’t mind if I go in?” Cas asks.

“Of course not.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Cas smiles at him, and tugs his shirt over his head. He folds it neatly and sets it on the edge. Dean averts his eyes skyward as Cas drops his pants, and he hears those get added to the pile. 

“Shut your eyes when I jump in,” Cas warns, and Dean nods. 

Without anything further, Cas dives off the ledge and into the deep end. It’s almost as if the whole pool erupts in light, and Dean turns his head away, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes. When he turns back to the pool, blinking rapidly to dispel the spots left on his retinas, it’s to see just a few ripples across the water. Then, Cas’s head comes up on the other side of the pool, and he’s laughing. He shakes his head like a dog, water flying from the ends of his hair. 

Dean smiles. “Feel good to be in the water?”

“Yes,” Cas responds, and he makes his way back towards Dean. He swims lazily, weaving back and forth a bit, enjoying himself. 

Dean hesitates before lowering himself to the ground to settle near the edge, cross-legged. Cas approaches him, reaching out and grabbing the ledge to pull himself close. 

“Come in with me,” Cas murmurs. 

Suddenly nervous, Dean leans away. “Uh, I’m okay.” 

“You don’t like the water,” Cas says, as if just remembering. 

Dean shakes his head. “Not really, no.” 

Gripping the side of the pool with both hands, Castiel slaps his tail against the surface, his body stretched across the water. 

“Does it make you nervous?” Cas asks quietly. 

Dean picks at the hem of his jeans. “A little.” 

“Can I ask why?”

Dean flicks his eyes over Cas’s face, from his pink lips, to the water dripping from his chin, to the droplets caught in his eyelashes.

“How ‘bout I ask you a question, instead?” 

Cas hesitates, but only for a moment. “Alright.” 

“So, all those merpeople in your pod,” Dean starts. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Are you related to all of them?”

“Yes,” Cas responds easily. “They’re all my brothers and sisters.” 

Dean feels his eyebrows lift incredulously. “Wow. Big family.” 

“Yes,” Cas nods. 

“Are all of them pissed at you?” 

Cas looks at him sharply. “What makes you think they’re angry with me?”

“Gee, Cas, I don’t know,” Dean says sarcastically. “You say that they disapprove of being on land, and then you get all weird and you clam up.” 

“I don’t ‘get all weird’,” Cas says defensively, and Dean just gives him a look. 

“You’re avoiding the question, _again_ ,” Dean points out.

Cas huffs, causing water to spray from his lips. “I assume that they’re all angry, yes.” 

Dean considers this a moment. He thinks about asking what he really wants to ask, which is, ‘ _then why are you here?_ ’ and ‘ _how long are you gonna stay?_ ’ and ‘ _what’s making you not want to go back?_ ’ Knowing how Cas usually reacts to these types of questions, though, he keeps them to himself. 

“Do you have a favorite brother or sister?” He asks instead. 

Cas doesn’t reply right away, as if he was expecting Dean to ask something that he wouldn’t want to answer. He seems relieved that he didn’t. 

“Yes,” he says. 

“Tell me about them.” 

Cas studies Dean’s face for a moment, before a smile creeps over his mouth. “There are a few that I consider to be close to me.”

Dean nods, encouraging him to go on. 

“Anael, one of my sisters. She insists on going by Anna, much to the chagrin of many of our older siblings,” Cas says with a wry smile. 

“She’s younger than you?”

“Yes. She’s the only one younger than me, actually. We’re not close in age, but my next older sibling is one hundred and eight, so I’m much closer to her than the rest.”

“I bet she worships you,” Dean says with a smile. 

“She does tend to follow my lead, yes. It’s a habit that has a history of getting her into trouble, unfortunately for her,” Cas purses his lips. 

“I see,” Dean says with a smirk. “I’m starting to get the impression you’re the rebel of the family, Cas.”

Cas drops his gaze. “Hardly.” 

“Who else?” Dean asks, nudging Cas’s hand. 

“I have an older brother, Inias, who I spend a lot of time with.” Cas pulls himself up so that his forearms rest crossed on the ledge, and he hooks his chin over them. “He and I look most alike of the group. He hasn’t got blue eyes, though.” 

For some reason, Dean’s glad to hear that. He likes that Cas’s eyes are his, something that’s all Cas. 

“Inias and I had a lot in common when we were younger. He’s quite a bit older, but we were both very competitive, and involved in sport.”

_Merpeople sports_. Dean shakes his head at the very thought of that. 

As he talks, Cas tugs almost absently at Dean’s shoelace with his slim fingers. “We disagreed on some things, though.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Dean resists the urge to reach out and touch the wet ends of Cas’s hair. He’s so close, it would be easy. 

“Inias,” Cas seems to choose his words carefully. “was very concerned with the opinions of our oldest siblings. Particularly of Naomi and Zachariah.” 

“Opinions?”

Cas glances up at Dean’s face. “Naomi and Zachariah are very… specific. About how we should live, and behave. They expect us to follow suit.” Dean thinks he sounds kind of bitter, there, and he finds it interesting. 

“They sound like dicks,” Dean observes. “I thought mermaids - sorry, mer _people_ \- were supposed to sit on rocks and brush their hair, without a care in the world.” While Cas doesn’t answer that, he does crack a smile. 

Cas’s fingers, now that they’ve untied both of Dean’s shoes, creep under the hem of his jeans and trail over his ankle. Dean watches his hand for a quiet moment. 

“I did have a very favorite brother,” Cas says finally, and his voice sounds different. Quieter, a little sad, and Dean’s eyebrows come together. 

“Yeah?”

Cas nods, keeping his eyes on his hand, which continues to skim over Dean’s skin. “Gabriel. He was… different. He had a lot of life - that sounds silly. I’m not sure how to explain it.”

Dean just listens, waiting for Cas to go on. 

“He liked to have fun. He wanted to do things, and experience things. And he always treated me like _I_ could do things. That felt good.”

Dean nods, understanding completely how nice that would feel. Dean clears his throat softly. 

“How come it’s past tense?” He asks carefully. 

Cas takes a breath, and retracts his hand back into his own space, and Dean tries not to admit that he misses his touch. 

“Too much life gets you into trouble,” he says cryptically. Dean wonders if he’s speaking from personal experience as well. “Naomi and Zachariah didn’t appreciate it, to say the least.”

“So, he’s...where, exactly?”

“No one knows. But it doesn’t matter.” Cas meets Dean’s eye. “He’s not coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, and he means it. 

Castiel jerks his head in an approximation of a shrug, but it comes off sharp in a way that makes Dean hurt for him, dully. “It was a very long time ago, that he went away. I was young. It just - it made me realize… No one else can do what he did. Naomi and Zachariah, they…” He shakes his head. “No one else could do it.” 

“I think what you’re doing is pretty cool,” Dean says honestly. “Pretty badass, actually.” 

“Yes, well… I have to go back,” He hesitates. “Eventually.” 

Dean really shouldn’t feel disappointed, hearing that. He knows he shouldn’t, but he does. 

“Well,” Dean murmurs. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

He looks up through his lashes to see Cas smiling at him. 

“I’m glad I am, too,” Cas says. 

Cas pushes off the ledge, diving backwards. As his tail comes out of the water, it’s with a splash, and Dean leans away to avoid getting wet. Cas disappears under the water, and Dean rocks forwards onto his hands and knees to peer down at the surface. Cas stays under so long that the ripples he created become still, and the surface flattens out. 

“Where’d you go, Cas,” Dean mutters to himself, straining to see through the water in the dark. He sees movement underneath him, and leans in close for a better look. 

Cautious about leaning over the edge in case he were to lose his balance, Dean is about to give up and sit back on his heels when Cas breaks the surface directly below him. He comes out of the water and shakes his wet hair out of his eyes, splashing Dean in the process. 

“ _Euh_ ,” Dean flinches back with a chuckle. “Asshole.” 

Cas just smiles, dripping from his earlobes and chin, and Dean’s caught in his stare. He lowers himself to his forearms, his legs tucked under him, bringing his face closer to Cas’s. Dean watches Cas’s eyes flick down to his mouth, and his throat bobs as he swallows. 

Before Dean can convince himself otherwise, he steels himself for a moment and then he leans down, and kisses him. 

Dean’s stomach flutters aggressively when Cas immediately kisses him back. His lips are wet against Dean’s but they’re warm, and they’re insistent. He can taste the chlorine on them. 

When Cas starts to pull away, it’s too soon. Dean doesn’t want to lose the feeling of their mouths moving together, and he follows him. 

Breaking the kiss only long enough to speak, Cas whispers against the side of Dean’s mouth. 

“Hold your breath.” 

Without thinking, Dean does as he’s told, and he leans further over the edge as Cas sinks into the water. Before he can register what’s happening, Dean’s face touches the surface. He holds his breath, and he feels Cas’s lips against his, and there’s pool water between their mouths, and holy fuck his face is underwater. 

Dean pulls away, gasping. Water drips down his forehead from the ends of his hair, and off his nose. Cas breaks the surface as well, and they stare at one another. 

“Was that okay?” Cas murmurs eventually. 

Dean swallows, blinking water off his lashes. “I don’t know. I think so.” 

“You’re okay?” Cas studies him carefully. 

Dean nods, taking stock of himself. His heart’s beating faster than normal, but he’s breathing okay and his stomach is behaving. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 

He pushes himself up and brings his legs around so he’s sitting on his ass. Cas watches him, quiet. 

“Do you want to put your feet in?” He asks. 

“Um,” Dean considers that. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to try?” 

Dean hesitates. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I can offer a distraction for you,” Cas says with a smirk, and Dean finds himself smiling. 

“Is that a promise?” 

Dean tugs off his shoes, which were already untied, and then his socks. Cas reaches out and rolls up one of his pant legs while Dean gets the other. 

Cas waits, patiently, while Dean chews his lip and debates the situation for a moment. He wants to put his feet in. He’s just not sure how he’ll react, and he really doesn’t want to make a scene in front of Cas. There’s a difference between knowing Dean gets nervous and weird and catching a glimpse of him being worked up, and then getting caught in one of his full-blown freakouts. 

On the other hand, there’s the promise of more making out.

Dean swings his legs over the side of the pool before he can chicken out, sliding his feet into the water. 

He’s immediately rewarded when Cas surges upward, boosting himself halfway out of the water with his elbows on either side of Dean, and captures his mouth in another searing kiss. Dean’s almost taken a little aback, but he’s quick to recover and he goes with it. 

Settling between Dean’s knees, Cas tilts his face up for better access. Feeling bold, Dean bites gently at Cas’s lower lip and he responds by opening his mouth, and their tongues meet. 

Dean doesn’t even care that he’s getting all wet as he snakes an arm around Cas’s shoulders and clings to him, Cas rucking up Dean’s t-shirt as he clutches at his side. 

When they finally pull away from one another, they don’t go far. Cas has his elbows hooked over the tops of Dean’s thighs to keep him out of the water. Dean lets his hands stay where they are on either side of Cas’s neck, and he leans down to kiss him once more on the lips, briefly. 

“Good distraction,” he mutters, and Cas smiles.

Dean runs his fingers through Cas’s wet hair, making it stick up in unruly spikes. 

“That’s a good look for you.”

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs. “You still feeling okay?” 

Dean nods. If he doesn’t think about the water lapping around his calves, and just focuses on the blue of Cas’s eyes, he feels pretty good. 

“Your eyelashes are so long,” Cas says unexpectedly. 

Dean scoffs. “They’re girly.” 

“They’re beautiful.” 

Dean grunts and turns his face away, flushing. “Exactly. Girly.” 

“Come back,” Cas says, gently turning Dean’s face back towards him with a wet hand to his cheek. 

Dean meets his eyes again, sheepishly. 

“Well, I think you’re pretty hot, too.” 

Cas tilts his head in confusion. “I don’t feel hot.” He touches his forehead with the back of his hand. “Do I feel hot?” 

Dean laughs out loud, but is quick to muffle it. He glances towards the motel, but there’s no movement behind the slider. “That’s not what I meant, Cas.” 

“Oh.”

Shaking his head, Dean smiles down at him. 

“You’re cute,” he says. “In, like… a sexier way.” 

It’s the first time Dean’s ever seen Cas blush. 

“Oh,” he says, blinking, and it’s so adorable that Dean kisses him again. 

“It’s hard to believe,” Cas says in wonder when Dean straightens up. 

“What is?” 

“That I’m kissing you.” 

Dean snorts. “What, kissing a human?” 

Keeping his eyes down as he fiddles with the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, Cas shrugs. 

“Yes,” he says, but Dean has a strange suspicion that there’s more to it. 

“Well,” Dean says. “I can’t believe I’m making out with a merman, either.” 

Cas smiles wryly. When Dean stifles a yawn, Cas frowns. 

“You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “Go get some rest. I’ll be out here.” He tries to pull away, but Dean groans and doesn’t let him. 

“Wait,” he says petulantly, and bends to press his lips to Cas’s. Cas chuckles, but Dean shuts him up when he swipes his tongue against his lower lip, and Cas opens his mouth and lets him in. 

When they finally break apart, they do so slowly, their lips brushing softly a few more times before they separate. 

Dean opens his eyes lazily to find Cas already gazing at him. He smiles. 

“Come inside when you dry off,” he whispers. 

“I will,” Cas nods. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

Reluctantly, Dean pulls away, extracting himself from Cas’s arms. He pulls his feet out of the water and grabs his shoes and socks.

At the gate, Dean turns back. Cas is at the edge, watching him go, and there’s a faint glow in the water, all around him. Coming _from_ him. 

With a last wave, Dean tears his eyes away and heads back to the apartment. 

Out of habit, he peeks into Sam’s room on his way past but the kid is fast asleep. 

Dean’s still thinking about the feeling of Cas’s lips against his by the time he gets into bed, and he finds himself smiling. Making out with a merman - who knew that would ever happen to him. 

His mind is so caught up reliving Cas’s mouth, and how the water reflected in his eyes, and the way the droplets looked on his skin, that Dean doesn’t even think about how he had sat there, feet in the pool, without a problem. He put his _face_ under the water, which he could never imagine himself doing, before tonight. 

He doesn’t think about any of this, and he also doesn’t think about how familiar the whole thing felt - the sound of water lapping, the feeling of strong arms around him, staring into deep blue. The dim glow that encompassed them, soft and warm. It’s like a vague sense of deja vu, but he doesn’t examine it close enough to be sure.


	6. boardwalk blaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait - these chapters just keep getting longer and longer, I hope you guys don't mind!
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful Charli for the beta. <3

Dean cracks his eyes open blearily, not quite sure what’s woken him. He rolls over, and squints at a shirt-less, messy-haired shadow kneeling beside him. 

“Cas?” He whispers.

“I apologize for waking you,” Cas murmurs back, and Dean hums, his eyes falling shut again. “Were you dreaming?”

“Huh?” 

“Were you dreaming? You were twitching.” 

“I don’ remember,” Dean mumbles drowsily. 

“Can I sleep in here?” Cas whispers. 

Dean nods against his pillow. 

“Thank you. I’ll set some blankets up on the floor.”

Fumbling in the dark, Dean grabs Cas’s wrist as he makes to stand, and tugs at him. 

“No. Come in here.” Dean rolls towards the wall, making room in his bed. Cas hesitates, but then starts to clamber under the blankets. 

Dean grimaces when he feels denim scrape against him. “Dude. Take your jeans off. Don’t sleep in those.” He pushes at Cas’s chest, who hesitates again before getting back out of bed. 

When Cas comes back a second time not even a minute later, Dean’s already asleep again, lying on his stomach with his face turned towards the wall. He’s jolted back awake, however, when Cas’s ice cold toes make contact with the backs of his calves. 

Dean hisses, drawing his legs away. “Your feet are fucking freezing, man.”

“Sorry,” Cas whispers. “They do seem to get very cold.” His breath tickles Dean’s ear with his proximity, raising goosebumps on the back of his neck. 

Before Cas is even settled, Dean rolls towards him. Barely even opening his eyes, Dean finds Cas’s mouth in the dark with his own, pressing their lips together. 

Cas makes a surprised noise in his throat, but kisses back after a moment, his hand coming up to rest on the side of Dean’s neck. The pool water in Cas’s hair leaves a damp spot on Dean’s favorite pillow, but he doesn’t care. Settled half on top of Cas with one leg slotted between his, all Dean cares about is Cas’s mouth against his and the hand that’s hesitantly found its way up the back of Dean’s t-shirt. 

They trade soft, sleepy kisses on and off for a while. Occasionally, one of them deepens the kiss, their tongues sliding lazily over one another. Eventually they pull away, the only light to see by coming from the motel’s neon sign outside the window. Cas’s eyes droop heavily, his eyelashes casting spiky shadows on his cheeks. 

Dean falls asleep first, unbelievably warm and comfortable, his legs tangled with Cas’s. 

***

Dean really wonders what merpeople’s beds are like in the ocean, because Cas sleeps like the dead on Dean’s piece of shit mattress. 

When Dean wakes up around nine the following morning, he has to climb over Cas and Shelley the dolphin to get out of bed because the guy won’t budge. He just groans irritably and burrows deeper into the blankets when Dean prods at him. Dean would find it endearing if he didn’t have to pee so bad. 

He slips out of his room and into the hallway just as Sam’s passing by, disheveled and still in pajamas. Dean’s careful to shut the door before Sam can catch a glimpse of the unmistakable dark hair poking out from the covers. That’s definitely not something he can deal with first thing in the morning. 

“Mornin’, De’,” Sam mumbles. 

“Hey,” Dean says, making a break for the bathroom. “Breakfast?” 

“Sure,” Sam yawns as they pass each other. 

Back in the kitchen, Dean pulls eggs and cheese out of the fridge while Sam gets some toast started. 

“How many pieces?” Sam asks. 

“Three.” 

Sam doesn’t blink at the addition of a third and pulls the bread from the bag. Regarding him over his shoulder as he cracks eggs into the hot pan, Dean chews his lip. 

“Hey, Sammy?” 

“Yeah,” Sam opens the fridge and starts digging through it. 

“Lemme ask you something.” 

“Where’s the butter?” 

“In the door, Einstein.” 

“Oh, found it.” Sam straightens up and shuts the door. “Ask me what?” 

Dean scrambles the pan full of eggs for a minute and tries to think of his words. 

“It’s about Cas. Kind of.” Dean sees Sam start to smirk, and he rushes on before the twerp can say anything. “What exactly did you think was his deal, before you found out about… you know, his tail?” 

“What do you mean?” Two slices pop up from the toaster and Sam takes them out to put in a third. 

“I don’t know, I just noticed that you, like,” Dean shrugs, “always tried to feed him, and invite him to eat with us and stuff.” 

“I just thought he might be hungry,” Sam says with a shrug. “You said he lived across the street, but he never went home, and he never had any money.” 

“What, you thought he was homeless or somethin’?”

“Or that his parents weren’t feeding him, I don’t know,” Sam says as he butters. “You always made sure I had something to eat. Just thought I’d pass it along.” 

Dean swallows. He’s never understood how Sam could talk about this stuff so easily, and he kind of envies him for it. He turns back to the eggs. 

“Oh.” 

Mulling over his words, Dean feels kind of impressed with the kid. Proud of him. He glances at his brother, this little person who every day does something that makes Dean realize he’s becoming somebody real. Somebody admirable. 

“Either that, or you two were doin’ it,” Sam says. 

Dean takes it all back. 

_“What?”_

“Dude, he was wearing your clothes every day, you think I didn’t notice that?” Sam brandishes the butter knife as he talks.

“It’s not - we’re not - ” Dean splutters. The eggs smoke a bit and he fumbles to shut the stove off. 

“And I see the way you look at each other, Dean. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Not to mention, you’ve been blushing more recently than you ever have - ”

“We’re not _doing it_ , Sam,” Dean finally gets out, and of course he fucking blushes. 

They both fall silent at the sound of Dean’s door opening in the hallway. And just his fucking luck, here comes Cas into the doorway to the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of Dean’s boxers and an impressive case of bed head. 

“Good morning.” Cas’s voice is unbelievably gravelly with sleep. 

Sam turns to Dean and says nothing, just raises his eyebrows high. 

Dean points the spatula at him. “Shut the fuck up. And Cas, go put some pants on.” 

Cas looks down at himself in only underwear, and then turns and heads back down the hall. 

When Cas comes back with jeans on, they settle in front of the TV with their breakfast, with Cas and Dean on the couch and Sam sitting on the floor at the cheap coffee table. Cas is pretty intrigued by cartoons, but is still dubious of Spongebob. 

“What’s on his nose?” He asks around a mouthful of egg sandwich that Dean showed him how to assemble. 

“Sunscreen,” Sam answers as if that was a stupid question. 

“Why is a lobster wearing sunscreen?” 

“He’s a lifeguard.” 

Cas looks absolutely baffled. “What?” 

“Just go with it, Cas,” Dean says. 

Cas shoots him a look, but Dean hears his phone vibrate on the kitchen counter and he gets up to get it. He makes his way back to the couch and opens it to find a text from Jo. 

10:07am   
**Dude.**

Dean flops down and grabs his sandwich with his free hand, replying with the other. 

10:08am  
 **what**

Jo answers within seconds. 

10:08am  
 **Boardwalk blaze. Tonight.**

“Is that Dad?” Sam asks, and Dean glances up from his phone. 

“No, it’s Jo.” 

“What’s she sayin’?” Sam keeps his eyes glued to the TV, eating around the crust of his toast. 

“Uh, she just wants to hang out at the boardwalk tonight. I don’t know if I’ll go.” 

“Can I come?” Sam asks, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen. 

“No,” Dean says without looking at him. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Sam says pointedly. “It’s _that_ kinda hang out.” 

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean grouches, but without any real intention. 

Cas is glancing between the two of them, looking curious. Dean’s phone vibrates again. 

10:14am  
 **????**

10:15am  
 **idk maybe. id have to leave sammy home alone.**

10:15am   
**Shitty excuse, Dean!! Don’t be a pussy!!**

Dean rolls his eyes at that. He’s about to put his phone down without answering when she sends another. 

10:17am  
 **Come to the lobby Deanna.**

10:18am  
 **i will later**

10:18am  
 **Ugh fine.**

Dean tosses his phone onto the coffee table and leans back into the couch cushions, looking at the TV but not really watching. 

It’s not that he _doesn’t_ want to go. They usually have a lot of fun, and he hasn’t hung out with all those guys in a while. It’s just, they also usually end up getting into some kind of trouble. Not to mention, as fun as it is to get high at Jolly Rogers, weed sometimes sort of messes with him. It either chills him out really well or makes him nervous and unsettled. He’s never sure which it’s gonna be when he smokes, which is why he doesn’t do it very often. 

The last time they did a boardwalk blaze was the end of last summer, and whatever shit Andy had really hadn’t made Dean feel super awesome. On top of that, Jo and Ash had insisted they pool hop on the walk home, and while Dean did _not participate_ , it didn’t exempt him from getting a ride back to the Bunker in the back of Jody’s squad car when they got caught. John wasn’t home, thankfully, but Ellen sure was and she can be just as scary when she wants to. 

And then there’s Cas. 

Dean only half-listens as he and Sam continue to lightly bicker back and forth about the implausibility of Spongebob. He’d like for Cas to meet his friends, but he’s not sure how the guy would feel about getting stoned with them. 

He tries not to think about the other reason it makes him feel uneasy. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he announces to the room before getting up, grabbing their dirty plates on his way to put in the kitchen. 

After a quick shower, Dean throws on clean clothes and spends some time straightening up his room. It’s never been this messy before Cas came around. But while he grumbles and rolls his eyes as he picks up a few t-shirts that he knows Cas wore last, he finds that he actually doesn’t mind too much. 

Back in the living room, he finds that Sam and Cas have switched to another Marvel movie. 

“What happened to Spongebob?” Dean asks as he returns to his spot on the couch. He draws his legs up so they’re criss-cross, and his knee rests a bit on the top of Cas’s thigh. It’s a small couch. 

“Cas wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Sam says, sounding like he’s been personally offended. 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Cas insists. 

“Thor isn’t real either, Cas!” Sam says indignantly. “He’s basically an alien!”

“There could be aliens.” 

Sam rolls his eyes, but Dean holds back a smile. 

They watch the movie for a while, the three of them happy to enjoy a day full of doing nothing. 

At one point, Cas shifts to lay with his head on the armrest of the couch, and his back pocket crinkles. Dean looks over just as Cas is frowning and reaching to pull out whatever it is, and Dean knows before he even sees it. 

Cas had put on the jeans that Dean was wearing the day before. 

“What’s this?” Cas asks as he pulls out the envelope, unfolding it. Sam turns his head, and Dean straightens up. 

“Oh,” Dean says, and he grabs it from Cas’s hand. “That’s nothing.” 

Cas’s eyebrows come together and his head tips to the side. Dean opens his mouth to make some excuse when Sam comes out of nowhere and snatches the envelope out of Dean’s grip. 

“What’s nothing?” Sam says, and he twists away when Dean tries to grab at his shirt, flattening out the envelope to read the front. 

“Give that back, you bitch,” Dean growls, and he jumps from the couch when Sam slinks out of his reach. He gets a handful of Sam’s collar and drags him towards himself, finally wrestling the letter from him and crumbling it up in his fist. 

Sam turns wide eyes on him, and Dean knows it’s too late. 

“Is that from College Park?” 

“No.” Dean shoves the stupid thing in his front pocket and sits back on the couch. 

“It _is_. I saw that it is. Dean.” 

Dean doesn’t look at him. 

“You applied? You told me you weren’t gonna.” 

“Would you leave me alone? It doesn’t matter.” He keeps his jaw clenched defensively and his eyes on the TV. 

“Wait, you mean they didn’t… you didn’t get in?” Sam sounds disbelieving, and while Dean’s flattered his kid brother still has so much faith in him, it makes him ache deep inside. 

“No, it’s not - that’s not - ”

Sam gasps. “You _did_ get in.”

Dean says nothing, and that’s answer enough for Sam. 

“ _Dean._ You got in!” The kid sounds thrilled, and Dean can see his grin out of the corner of his eye and he can’t look directly at it. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“What are you talking about? That’s _awesome!_ ” 

“I’m probably not going, Sam,” Dean’s voice is hard, and he finally looks at his brother. “So leave it alone.” 

“But they want you. Why wouldn’t you go?” When Dean just shakes his head, a look of realization comes over Sam’s face. “What, because of _Dad?_ ” He makes a disgusted noise. “That’s a joke, right?” 

“It’s expensive, for one thing, even with help. And College Park is like three hours away, Sam. I can’t go that far.”

“Fuck Dad.” Sam says angrily. “Yes you can.” 

“You watch your fucking mouth, Sam,” Dean points at him, and he’s satisfied to see his brother look properly chastised. He stands. “I’m done talking about this. I’m going to go see Jo.” 

Dean swipes his phone off the table and makes for the hall. 

“C’mon, Cas,” he growls. “I’ll get you a shirt to wear.” 

Cas stands and follows him obediently as Dean stalks to his room. Grabbing the first t-shirt from his drawer, Dean all but shoves it at him and hardly gives him enough time to tug it over his head before heading towards the hall. He stops abruptly in the doorway, however, and Cas nearly walks into him. Without letting himself hesitate, Dean fishes the balled up envelope out of his pocket and tosses it in the trash, and then walks out without a backward glance. 

They make it all the way to the lobby without Dean saying a word, and though Dean half expects Cas to break the awkward tension, he keeps quiet. 

Jo looks up from her spot behind the counter and grins.

“Hey!” 

“Hey, Jo,” Dean says as he and Cas come up to her. Dean leans his forearms on the desk in front of her. 

“Hello,” Cas says pleasantly.

“Cas, right?” Jo says with a glance between them, and Cas nods. 

She looks to Dean, who just stares at her. 

“Well?” She asks when he says nothing.

“You told me to come here,” he grouches. “Here I am.” 

“Okay, touchy. You in for tonight, or not?” 

“I don’t know yet.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Dean. Don’t be such a baby. Vic’s in town, and he brought his new British girlfriend. He wants us to meet her. Cas can come, too.” 

She gestures at Cas, who glances at Dean. 

“We won’t all fit on the ferris wheel,” Dean says. 

“Yes we will, Andy’s not coming. So there’s six of us, we’ll fit.”

“How is it a boardwalk blaze if Andy’s not coming?”

“I already bought the stuff from him. You can pay me back later. And I won’t even charge you for what he smokes,” she jerks her head towards Cas. “Because I love you so much and want you to come.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Dean, it’s been almost a year since our last one. It’s the perfect night.” 

“Yeah, you remember what happened on the last one?” 

She scoffs. “Okay, yeah, that sucked, but it won’t this time. No pool hopping, I promise.” 

Dean chews his lip. “I don’t know.” 

“You’re killing me, Deanna,” she turns to Cas. “C’mon, Cas, tell him you wanna come.” 

“Um,” Cas hesitates, and looks at Dean. 

“Leave him outta this,” Dean grouches. 

Jo sighs heavily. “You’re killing me. Please come. I spent twenty-five bucks on this stuff and I would love for you to share it with me.” 

Dean hesitates. Jo makes a pouty face, shoving out her lower lip and batting her eyelashes. It’s not bad, but as far as puppy-dog eyes go, it’s nowhere near as good as Sam’s. 

“I’ll think about it,” Dean says finally, and she beams. “I said I’ll _think_ about it, don’t get too excited.” 

“Okay, okay,” she holds up her hands defensively. “Think about it. Text me when you decide that you’re coming.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, and Jo just grins. 

When Dean and Cas get back to the apartment, Sam is no longer in the living room and his bedroom door is shut. Honestly, Dean’s relieved to not have to deal with him nagging again. 

“You hungry?” Dean asks. 

Cas shrugs. “I could eat a popsicle.” 

In the kitchen, Dean grabs a red popsicle for himself and digs to the bottom of the box for a blue one because he knows it’s Cas’s favorite. Cas smiles when he hands it over. 

“So,” Cas says when they’re in Dean’s room, Cas sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed and Dean on his back on the floor. “What is a ‘boardwalk blaze’?” 

Dean pulls his popsicle from his mouth with a sigh. “It’s a tradition that me and Jo and some other friends have.” 

He glances at Cas, who’s watching him curiously. 

“We go to the boardwalk with a couple joints and get high in the ferris wheel and then hang out around there.” 

“Joints?” 

Dean nods. “Yeah, like, weed. Um. Marijuana?” 

Cas tilts his head. 

“It’s a drug. Do you guys have those in the ocean?” 

“Oh,” Cas nods. “Yes. We do.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows with a chuckle. “You sound pretty familiar there, Cas.” 

“No,” Cas says, but he drops his eyes a little sheepishly. “We do have a few hallucinogenic plants, but we’re not supposed to eat them.” 

“Says who?” Dean asks. 

“Naomi and Zachariah.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Right. The fun suckers.” 

Cas smiles at that. 

“But you’ve eaten them,” Dean says with a look. 

“Once.” 

Dean hoots, grinning. “Cas, you _dog_.”

“It was an accident!” Cas insists, waving his popsicle. 

“Yeah, _sure_ ,” Dean says with a laugh. 

“It was!”

“Okay, okay,” Dean waves a hand at him. “I believe you, now don’t drip that thing all over my sheets.” 

Cas grumbles, but returns the popsicle to his mouth. 

“Anyway,” Dean says. “Jo and Ash always get high and then wanna do stupid shit, and we always get in trouble. I don’t know if I want you to have to deal with all that.” 

“Well, do you want to go?” 

Dean shrugs. 

“I’d like to meet more of your friends. So far, they’ve all been very nice.” 

Dean looks at Cas’s honest expression and smiles a little. 

“Yeah?” 

Cas nods. “I also wouldn’t be opposed to trying some marijuana.” 

Dean bursts out with a laugh. “Oh yeah? Cas, you badass.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, and kicks at Dean’s shin with his bare foot. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. 

Still chuckling, Dean tosses his finished popsicle stick in the trash before rolling up to his knees and shuffling towards Cas. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asks suspiciously. 

“Coming to see you,” Dean murmurs with a smile, his eyes on Cas’s lips around his popsicle. Cas lets his knees fall open to allow room for Dean, who settles between them, sliding up into Cas’s space. 

“Hello,” Cas says quietly into the narrow space between them, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Your lips are blue,” Dean murmurs. 

“Is that why you keep staring at them?” 

“No.” 

Palms settled on the tops of Castiel’s thighs, Dean leans in and kisses him. Cas parts his lips immediately, letting Dean in, and he tastes like artificial blueberries. 

“You taste like popsicle,” Dean breaks the kiss long enough to say, his fingers squeezing Cas’s thighs without his permission. 

“You taste like Dean,” Cas replies, and Dean plucks Cas’s half-eaten popsicle from his loose grip and twists to toss it in the trash. 

Cas makes an indignant noise, but it changes to something different when Dean turns back and re-captures his mouth. Dean presses in close, forcing Cas backwards until he’s on his back on the mattress, and Dean follows. 

“I couldn’t have you making a mess with that thing,” Dean says against his mouth, and he feels Cas nod. 

“I prefer this anyway,” he says. 

Dean grins and kisses him again. Hovering over Cas with a hand on either side of his head, Dean nips at Cas’s lip and he opens up. Their tongues twist together, and Cas makes a sound low in his throat that Dean can’t help but respond to by pressing in closer, chests flush. Dean’s careful to avoid grinding his hips down into him, as much as he really _really_ wants to. 

Cas makes it even more difficult for Dean to keep himself in check when his fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the strands. 

When Dean finally pulls away to catch his breath, Cas keeps his mouth on him, kissing over his chin and around to his jaw. Dean turns his head, allowing Cas trail his lips along the tendon of his neck. Dean’s throat bobs as he swallows. 

He’s uncomfortably aware of Sam across the hall, behind his closed bedroom door. 

Cas finally lets his head fall back to the mattress, and Dean meets his eye. 

“Everything okay?” 

Dean nods. “Yeah. I just don’t wanna get caught if Sam comes out of his room.” 

Cas nods, his eyes flicking over Dean’s face. “That would be bad.” 

He phrases it like a question, and Dean nods again with a chuckle. “Yes. If by bad you mean incredibly awkward, yes, it would be bad.” 

As much as he doesn’t want to, Dean climbs off of Cas to sit beside him, letting a hand trail over his chest as he pulls away. He sighs. 

“So, you really wanna go to the boardwalk blaze tonight?” Dean asks. 

Cas nods. “As long as you would like to, and wouldn’t mind me coming along.” 

Dean looks at Cas lying sprawled out on his bed and he cracks a smile. “Okay. I’ll text Jo.” 

***

Sam is pouty all throughout their late dinner, and while Dean does his best to ignore it, he’s never been very good at that when it comes to Sam. He’s not sure if Sam’s grouchy because they’re leaving him home alone to go to the boardwalk (but hell no is Dean bringing him along to do illegal drugs in public) or because he wants to bring up College Park again but knows Dean won’t talk about it (and yeah, hell no he won’t talk about it). 

“Eat your food,” Dean says, gesturing to Sam’s plate of green beans and chicken tenders. Dinner of champions in the Winchester household. 

“The green beans are gross,” Sam complains, pushing them around his plate. 

“What the hell are you talking about? You like green beans.” 

“I like _real_ green beans. Not green beans out of a can.” 

Dean clenches his jaw. “Yeah, well, real green beans are expensive. Just eat it.” 

Sam glares. “Cas isn’t eating his,” he says, and gestures with his fork at Cas’s plate across the coffee table. 

Cas looks up with a guilty expression. “Um,” is all he says. 

“Cas is like eighty years old,” Dean says. 

“I’m seventy-seven.”

“He can eat what he wants. You need to eat your green beans.” Dean raises his eyebrows challengingly, and the look must have just enough John Winchester in it, because while Sam rolls his eyes he stabs a few vegetables and shoves them in his mouth. 

Satisfied, Dean goes back to his own food. As much as he hates to admit it, the green beans are pretty gross. But they’re the only vegetable they had, and Dean honestly was surprised when he found them in the cabinet. He’ll try to budget in real ones next time he goes to the store. 

“You guys are leaving right after dinner?” Sam asks, and Dean doesn’t look at him when he answers. 

“I told Jo we’d meet her at nine, so pretty much, yeah.” 

He doesn’t have to see Sam to know he’s making a bitch face. 

They finish up eating and Dean collects their plates. He debates washing them now, but ends up just rinsing them and leaving them in the sink. He can deal with them tomorrow. 

“I’ll have my phone on me if you need something,” Dean says as he collects his wallet from the table in the hallway. 

“Okay,” Sam grumbles. “If I’m asleep when you get home, tell Jody I say hi.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam stalks back to the living room. 

“Bitch!” Dean calls after him. 

He waits, and for a second he thinks Sam’s going to ignore him. 

“ _Jerk_.” Sam calls back finally, and Dean smiles. 

“Alright, Cas, c’mon.” 

They catch the bus at the intersection of 27th street, and get stuck standing the whole way because it’s so crowded. The inland schools must be getting out. The summer rush is starting. 

“Oh, shit,” Dean mutters. 

Cas turns to him with a frown. “What?” 

“I just realized, senior week starts this weekend.” 

“Senior week?” Cas looks confused. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “A lot of schools in Maryland and some other close states have this thing called senior week. After a class graduates, all the seniors come down here for a week and rent places and basically just get shitfaced every night. The first week of June is the busiest.” 

“Didn’t you just graduate?” Cas asks. 

Dean shrugs. “Yeah. But it’s not as much of a thing for my school because all of us live around here all the time. Besides,” Dean smirks ruefully. “I’ve kind of participated since I was fifteen.” 

“Is it fun?” 

“Yeah, it’s fun. Jo’s more into it than I am. There are cops everywhere and most parties get busted, but sometimes you find a good one.” 

It takes longer than Dean anticipated to get down to the inlet, and it’s about nine fifteen when they find Jo and Ash on the boardwalk. 

“Jesus, Dean, finally!” Jo says dramatically as Dean and Cas approach. “You’re late.” 

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Dean grumbles. “Hey, Ash.”

“Hey, Dean-o!” Ash claps him on the shoulder, beaming. “It’s been too long, compadre.” 

Good old Ash. Mullet and all. 

“Yeah, man, it has,” Dean nods his head towards Cas. “This is Cas, by the way. Bay Cove kid, just moved here.” 

“Hello,” Cas says with a nod. He seems intrigued by Ash, and Dean doesn’t blame him. He does take some getting used to. 

“Cas, nice to meet you. Welcome to your first boardwalk blaze, man.” Ash grins. 

“Thank you,” Cas says politely. 

“Where’s Victor?” Dean asks as they start walking. 

“He’s meeting us down there,” Jo says. “He wanted to win Bela a stuffed animal or something, I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes. 

“What, you hate this girlfriend already?” Dean jokes. “You haven’t even met her.” 

“Her name’s Bela and she has a British accent,” Jo says with disgust. “What’s not to hate? Watch, she’s probably skinny and blond, too.” 

“ _You’re_ skinny and blond.” 

“Shut the hell up, Deanna.” Jo punches him in the shoulder, and Dean chuckles. 

Since Victor graduated a year ago, he’s had three girlfriends and Jo has adamantly expressed her dislike for each and every one of them. She’s always been territorial about her friends, though. 

They catch sight of Vic and Bela when they reach the end where all the games are, and Jo turns to give Dean a lofty look as the two of them come out of the crowd. Sure enough, Bela’s got a stuffed penguin under one arm, her other looped through Victor’s elbow - and she’s skinny and blond. 

“You owe be five bucks,” Jo mutters out of the corner of her mouth as they approach.

“What!” Dean says indignantly. “We didn’t even bet!” 

“Hey, guys!” Jo has her best fake smile on as they come up on the couple. 

“Hey,” Victor grins at them all, and Bela releases his arm so he can hug everyone. “It’s cool to be back. Good old Ocean Shitty, huh?” 

“Still shitty,” Ash says with a smirk. 

“Guys, I want you to meet my girl,” Vic says with a smile, and gestures to her standing beside him. “This is Bela. We met a few months back.”

“Hello,” Bela says with a smile, and her eyes dart sharply between the four of them, almost sizing them up. 

She sure does have an accent. Dean feels his eyebrows quirk when he hears it, and avoids looking at Jo because he’s sure whatever expression on her face will make him laugh. They all wave and nod and murmur their hellos. 

“And who’s this, my replacement?” Vic asks amicably, looking at Castiel. 

“Vic, this is my friend Cas. He just moved into Bay Cove,” Dean says. 

“That’s cool, man,” Vic says with a friendly smile. “This your first boardwalk blaze, then?”

They start walking, making their way towards the ferris wheel that looms over the boardwalk. 

“Yes, it is,” Cas says. 

“Well, hopefully it’s not as wild as the last one,” Vic says with a chuckle, and Ash and Jo exchange smirks and Dean rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t there, but I heard it was one for the books, huh?” 

“That is _not_ happening again,” Dean insists. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jo says. 

They bicker back and forth as the group of them parts through the crowds towards the rides. Dean glances around at Cas to make sure he’s not getting caught in all the people, and finds him close by and looking ahead with interest. Following his gaze, Dean sees Vic and Bela walking in front of them. Vic seems to have taken over carrying the penguin, and his other arm is around Bela’s shoulders, her hand reaching up to lace her fingers through his. 

After stopping briefly at the booth to buy tickets, they get in line to the ferris is wheel. It isn’t too long, and they settle at the back of it. 

“Oh, perfect, Garth’s working,” Jo says. Dean cranes his neck, and sure enough, there’s Garth checking tickets. They can hear his cheerful voice all the way from their spot in line, and Dean shakes his head with a smile. 

“He is one chipper freakin’ dude,” Ash says. 

“Oh my god,” Jo whispers, and Dean turns at the sound of disgust in her voice. “She’s even worse than I imagined.” 

Dean hears a girly laugh and Victor’s chuckle, and then sees what Jo’s talking about. Vic and Bela, while only feet from them in line, only seem to have attention for each other. She’s got her arms around his neck and he’s smiling down at her, and she stretches up on her toes to kiss him.

Jo makes a quiet gagging noise, and Ash and Dean chuckle. 

“I’m gonna barf,” Jo whispers. 

Smiling, Dean glances at Cas, and does a double take when he sees him watching the two of them quietly. 

The ride lets off the current load of people, and they shuffle forward inch by inch. They wait another round but are first in line for the next one, the four of them chatting while Vic and Bela contribute to conversation every once in a while. 

The ferris wheel is just finishing when Cas reaches out and tries to take Dean’s hand.

Cas slides his palm into Dean’s, making to tangle their fingers together, and Dean panics. As if he were burned, Dean yanks his hand away and shoves it in his pocket. His face flushes and he doesn’t look at Cas, and he’s saved from having to say anything or meet his eyes as Garth opens the gate and lets them through. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of. Dean’s heart is still hammering as they clamber into their seats, and he can feel Cas’s eyes on the side of his face. They settle with Dean between Jo and Cas on one side, and Vic between Bela and Ash on the other.

Dean only glances at Cas after Cas looks away, and he’s got a pit of guilt in his stomach and he wants to say something to him but he can’t. Hardly listening to the conversation around him, Dean chews his lip and tries to tune back in. 

The ride turns as more people get on, lifting them higher off the ground. Once about halfway around, Jo deems it safe enough to pull the sandwich bag out of her pocket. 

“Alright, Andy told me this was good shit. Actually, I think his words were ‘smoke a joint and wait an hour ‘cuz this shit hits heavy.’” She chuckles, but Dean feels a little nervous. 

Pulling out a joint and a lighter, Jo appoints herself to do the honors of lighting it up. It takes a second to catch, but then the end burns bright and she inhales until she coughs. 

“Wow. It’s been way too long,” she says with a grin. 

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Ash says impatiently. “Pass it.” 

Jo takes one more hit and passes it off to Dean. 

Well, too late to be a little bitch now. 

Dean puts the joint to his lips and pulls on it, inhaling deep until he feels the familiar itch at the back of his throat. He feels Cas watching him, and he coughs, the smoke coming out of his mouth in a cloudy burst. 

The second hit he takes is smaller, but he holds it in his lungs longer as he hands the joint off to Cas. 

Cas takes it carefully between his fingers, staring at it. Blowing smoke out smoothly, Dean only coughs a little bit as he exhales. 

“Alright, Cas,” he says, and Cas looks at him. “Inhale it slow, or you’ll cough really bad. But hold it in your lungs as long as you can.” 

Cas nods, swallowing, and lifts the joint between his lips. The look of concentration on his face makes Dean’s mouth quirk in amusement. Cheeks hollowing as he inhales slowly, Cas takes a pretty decent drag from it before he pulls it away and starts coughing. 

Dean laughs. “There you go.” 

“That was a good one,” Ash says. 

“Ouch,” Cas says, rubbing his chest. 

“You’ll get used to that,” Jo encourages. “That was pretty good.” 

Cas takes one more hit, and it isn’t until he’s exhaling smoke that Dean realizes he’s staring at his mouth. He looks away quickly, glancing around, but doesn’t think anyone noticed. 

The sun gets lower and lower as they continue passing the joint around, the ride getting properly started. They’re careful to keep it hidden as they pass along the bottom, but there’s no way Garth would notice, and he definitely wouldn’t say anything if he did. 

As much as Dean hates to admit that Jo was right, Vic’s new girlfriend does seem like a bit of a bitch. She’s got a haughty air to her the whole ride, and she holds the joint delicately between two fingers as if she doesn’t want to catch their germs. 

Dean sees Jo roll her eyes. 

When the first joint is down to about the last third, Jo pulls out another and passes it along with the lighter to Dean. Dean sparks it up, inhaling deep. He’s definitely starting to feel his eyelids getting heavy, and a dull tingling in his legs. 

“Guys, I’ve got somethin’ I wanna tell you,” Victor says, and they all turn to him. He’s got a smile on his face as he glances between them all. “I’m afraid this is gonna be my last boardwalk blaze.”

_What?”_ Jo exclaims.

“Wait, why?” Dean asks, tapping ash off the end of the joint. 

Victor beams. “I was accepted to the police academy. It starts in September.” 

“No way!” Jo exclaims, along with the others, who all offer their congratulations with grins on their faces. 

“That’s awesome, man,” Dean says emphatically, and Ash punches Vic in the shoulder. 

“Thanks, guys,” Victor says fondly. “It means a lot. I’m really excited to get started.” 

“You’ll be great, dude,” Dean says as he hands the joint over to Cas. 

“Yeah, man, enjoy this illegal shit for one last time,” Ash says with a chuckle. 

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Vic says. “What about you guys? What are your post-grad plans for the fall?”

Dean lets his eyes wander out over the town below them, suddenly wanting out of this conversation. He should’ve known this was where it was headed.

“I’m movin’ up north. Massachusetts,” Ash says. “Startin’ at MIT.”

They all turn to stare at him. 

“MIT?” Jo says incredulously. 

“It’s a school in Boston,” Ash says with a nod.

“Yeah, we know what fucking MIT is,” Jo says. “Jesus, Ash. This makes my plan for Salisbury look even more pathetic.” 

Victor laughs, finishing the last of the first joint and flicking the burnt out stub over the side. He turns to Dean, who abruptly wishes he could jump out after it, knowing what’s coming. 

“How ‘bout you, Dean-o? I know College Park has all that engineering stuff you’re into, you goin’ there?”

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’m just gonna stay around here.”

“Does that mean Salisbury for you, too?” 

Dean shakes his head. “Uh, no.” He tries to smile, but it’s brittle and not believable. 

“Oh,” Victor says, getting the hint that Dean would rather sink through the bottom of his seat than talk about this. “Yeah, man, that’s cool.” 

Dean feels like an absolute piece of shit. 

The ride starts to slow, and they hurry to get the last of the joint around to all of them. When it gets to Dean, he drags on it hard, even though he knows he’s had a fair share and it’s probably a stupid move. 

“Shit, Dean,” Jo mutters as he finally coughs, and hands the last of the joint to Cas. 

“Finish it, Cas,” he says, his head spinning a little. 

There’s about one large hit left to the thing, and Cas casts Dean a glance before taking it like a champ. Dean’s kinda lost track of how many the guy’s had, and thinks briefly about whether or not he might be getting him too high his first time. 

They all whoop at Cas as he pulls on the joint until it’s just the papers burning, and Jo takes it from him to stub it out. Cas coughs, and Dean claps him on the back a few times. 

“Nice job, buddy,” he says with a loose grin.

“I think I’m starting to feel something,” Cas says. 

Dean and Jo crack up. 

They get a few weird looks getting off the ride, and Dean wonders if he looks about as smacked as he feels all of a sudden. He’s obviously not the only one, as he has to grab at the back of Cas’s shirt as he trips going up the curb, keeping him from falling on his face. 

“Thank you,” Cas says, and the absolutely dopey smile he turns on Dean makes him laugh. 

“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asks as they follow the others through the crowds. 

“I still have my legs?” 

“Yeah, you’ve got your legs.” 

“Can’t feel ‘em,” and Cas chuckles. 

“They’re there, I promise,” Dean says, pulling Cas out of the way of a stroller. 

“Where are we goin’?” Jo calls from the front.

“We’re following you!” Ash yells back. 

They end up at the arcade, and Cas stops dead in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Dean yells in his ear over the sound of the music and the people. 

“Look at all the lights,” Cas says, staring around in mezmeration. 

“Dude, you’re fried,” Dean shakes his head and grabs Cas’s arm, pulling him after the rest of the group. 

“Dean,” Jo calls as they approach. “Headshot, one on one?” 

“Oh, you’re going down, Joanna Beth.” 

“Fuckin’ try me, Deanna,” she says with a grin. 

Cas follows Dean and Jo to the zombie shooting game, and Ash, Vic and Bella wander off to different parts of the arcade. Headshot isn’t Dean’s favorite game when it comes to the shooting ones, but Jo held the high score for six months a few years back and Dean felt like he had to get good at it so he could kick her ass. These days, they’re about equal, but he likes to insist that he’s better. 

Jo pays for the round and Cas watches raptly as they kill zombies, the lights from the screen flashing over his face and reflecting in his wide eyes. He stands close behind Dean’s back, and they’re just about to reach level 7 when Dean feels him slip a couple fingers through one of his belt loops absently. Dean falters, and zombies swarm, and he’s eaten in seconds. 

**Game Over** , the screen flashes. **Winner: Player 1**

“Geez Dean, rusty much?” Jo beams at his loss, and Dean steps away from Cas, causing his hand to fall away. 

They play more games, meeting up with the others at one point. It’s obvious Bela isn’t having much fun and Dean isn’t surprised when Victor announces that the two of them are leaving, despite them only being in the arcade for about an hour. Jo bitches about it loudly after they say their goodbyes and walk away, and Dean would bet money Bela could hear her. 

Cas plays Speed of Light as Dean watches on in amusement. He comes nowhere near his high score, his reflexes slowed by the weed and his excessive stoned giggling, which Dean finds contagious. 

Cas loses with half the score he got the first time, but still turns around with a grin after collecting his meager fifteen tickets. 

“Do you want to play any more?” Dean asks into his ear. 

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hungry.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I’ll bet you are. C’mon, you can get candy with your tickets.”

At the ticket exchange counter, Dean and Cas lean against the counter side by side as Cas picks out his three pieces of choice - two Twizzlers, and a lollipop. 

They wander through the arcade slowly afterwards, in a lazy search for Ash and Jo. Cas bites off a piece of Twizzler, and gasps. 

“I can’t feel my tongue,” he announces. 

“It’s still there,” Dean assures. 

“Are you sure?” Truly concerned, Cas stops short and sticks his tongue out, crossing his eyes to try and see it. He looks absolutely ridiculous, and it’s only made worse when the Twizzler falls from his mouth. “Oops.”

Dean bursts out with a laugh and can’t stop, until he’s actually bent over and clutching at his side. He’s still chuckling as he straightens up, flicking a tear from under his eye. 

“That was disgusting,” he says. Cas nudges him with an elbow and shoots him a look, but he’s also smiling. 

Something catches Cas’s eye over Dean’s shoulder, and Dean turns to see a brightly lit game that flashes and shimmers. They walk over to it, Cas staring up at it in stoned wonder. 

“Wow,” he whispers, and they stand next to each other and watch the lights dance and flare, both of them maybe a little bit too baked but neither of them caring. 

Dean vaguely recognizes that he does feel pretty good, relaxed for the most part and not particularly paranoid or nervous. He turns to Cas and finds him already watching him, the look of wonder still clear as anything on his face. 

Well, not nervous about anything but that. 

“You’re beautiful,” Cas says plainly, just loud enough for Dean to hear him. Dean swallows. 

He’s so close Dean can count his individual eyelashes as Cas blinks slow, his lips pink and slightly parted. Cas leans in as if to kiss him, but Dean clears his throat and steps away before he can try, dropping his eyes.

Cas gets the hint and takes a step back, and Dean’s stomach twists when he glances up and catches the look on Cas’s face - confused and a little hurt, and Dean feels like punching himself in the face. 

“Is… everything alright?” 

Dean opens his mouth to answer. 

“Hey, there you guys are!” comes Jo’s loud voice, and Dean’s head snaps up at the sound. 

He takes another step away from Cas to be safe, but he’s pretty sure they were an innocent distance apart. His brain’s fuzzy with weed, though, and he can’t be sure. 

Ash and Jo both have noticeably bloodshot eyes, and Dean wonders if all of them look that high.

“Are you guys starving?” Jo asks. 

“Uh,” Dean glances at Cas. “Yeah, we are.” 

“We need pizza,” Jo nods, as if that’s decided. 

The pizza place is only two blocks away, but it feels like it takes forever to get to it. Halfway there, Dean realizes just how starving he is. They end up buying a large, and Dean gets Cas a water, and they sit at a picnic table on the boardwalk to eat. Even though it’s after eleven o’clock, it’s still pretty crowded and they’re not the only ones there. 

“I still can’t believe you’re going to fucking MIT,” Jo says with her mouth full. 

Dean feels hyper aware of Cas’s proximity beside him as they eat their pizza. Are they sitting too close? Their thighs aren’t touching, but Dean thinks he can feel the heat of Cas’s leg against his. Is that too close?

Ash shrugs. “They’ve got some cool computer shit there, man. I couldn’t say no.” 

Jo shakes her head. “Damn, guys. The dream team’s breaking up.”

Dean lifts his head at that. “What do you mean? You’re not going that far. Besides, Andy’s not leaving, either.” 

“I know I won’t be far, but I don’t think I’ll come home every weekend,” Jo says with a shrug. “And Andy said he might be moving to Wye Mills to go to community college there, didn’t he tell you that?” 

Dean swallows his pizza, and it goes down in a painful lump. “No,” he says. “He didn’t tell me that.” 

“He hasn’t totally decided, but he’s been lookin’ at apartments there, so it seems likely,” Jo says. 

“Oh,” is all Dean says to that. 

“We’ll still have summers,” Ash says easily. “I wouldn’t miss a boardwalk blaze.” 

Jo grins at him, but Dean only manages to crack a smile that he tries to make look less fake than it is. 

Ash and Jo move on to talk about how the pizza is better than anything they’ve ever tasted, but Dean falls quiet. He can feel Cas watching him, and avoids meeting his eye. 

When they finish eating, it’s nearing midnight and the boardwalk starts clearing out as shops close up for the night. They toss their trash and start walking north, the four of them still pretty high. Considering the amount of weed Cas smoked for his very first time, Dean’s pretty sure he might be high for a while. 

Dean suddenly has a thought. _Shit._

“Uh, Jo, do you need somewhere to crash for the night?” He asks. Since she lives a few miles inland, the bus doesn’t go to her house and she usually sleeps on Dean’s couch after they smoke or drink. It’s something Dean didn’t consider before, and there’s the problem that Cas also will be coming back to the Bunker. 

“Oh, no,” Jo says. “I left my mom’s car at Ash’s, so I’ll just stay there. I know you’ll miss me, though.” She grins, and Dean tries to play it off like he didn’t just let his breath out in relief. 

“So, guys,” Jo says. “Are we sure we don’t wanna take just one little swim on the way home?” 

Ash laughs, but Dean does not. 

“ _No_ ,” he says. “Jo, you said no pool hopping.” 

“Come _on_ , you big baby,” she nags, shoving him. “One little dip.” 

“No, Jo, fuck that.” 

“ _Fine_ ,” she says, and Dean catches her winking at Cas. “I’ll get him to join us one of these days,” she says to him. Dean rolls his eyes. 

They part ways at 9th street, where Jo and Ash walk inland towards Ash’s house and Cas and Dean catch the bus to head back to 28th. It’s much less crowded, this time, and they have room to sit down. 

“Your friends are very funny,” Cas says when they settle in their seats. His eyes are still red and he looks at Dean from under heavy eyelids. 

“Yeah, they’re a hoot,” Dean says, a hint sarcastically. “How you feelin’?” 

“Very good,” he says with a sleepy smile, which Dean returns. 

“Good. I hope you didn’t get too high.” 

“I’m not too high.” 

“Your eyes aren’t even open.” 

“They are too open,” Cas insists, and he blinks them wide to prove it, making Dean chuckle. 

Neither says anything for a few stops, their knees touching between them. 

“Dean,” Cas says softly as they pass the intersection of 20th street. “Can I hold your hand?” 

Dean shoots him a look, and then darts his eyes around the half-full bus in mild alarm. “Um,” he says. He clears his throat, and the bus comes to a stop at 23rd street. “Let’s get off here.” 

He’s up and moving towards the door without much warning, but Cas follows close behind. On the sidewalk, they start walking towards the Bunker as the bus pulls away. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Cas’s voice is careful and hesitant, and Dean feels instantly guilty. 

“No, Cas,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Okay… it’s just,” Cas seems to choose his words deliberately. “You seemed - distant. Tonight.” 

Dean swallows. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah. Everything’s cool,” Dean nods. 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that,” Cas says with a wry smile, and Dean is caught looking at it. 

He deserves the truth, but saying it out loud is the hard part. 

“Um,” Dean starts. They walk another entire block before Dean gets the courage to continue, but Cas waits patiently. 

“It’s just, my friends, they don’t - ” He hesitates. “They don’t know that I, you know…” 

He looks to Cas for help, but he just frowns in confusion. 

“They don’t know that I like guys, too,” Dean blurts. There it is, out in the open. “I mean, Jo makes jokes, but I don’t think she really _knows_. It’s not that - I don’t think they’d care, but it’s still - I don’t know, I just - ”

He huffs out his breath, frustrated. 

“I’ve only ever told one other person, and it didn’t exactly go well. I’m not super excited to have a repeat of that, you know? She didn’t - like, out me or anything, it could’ve been worse, but still, it wasn’t super _awesome_ how it went down. I don’t know.” Self conscious, Dean watches his feet as they walk. 

“I understand,” Cas says, and Dean cuts his eyes to him. 

“You do?”

“Yes,” Cas nods, looking at him softly. “Not specifically in regards to this subject, as sexuality isn’t something that matters where I come from. But when it comes to judgement, yes, I understand.”

Dean finds that he believes him, and he nods. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Cas tips his head to the side. “For being kind of a dick. For being ‘distant’, I guess. If I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to.” 

Cas gives him a small smile. “It’s okay.” 

Hesitantly, Dean takes Cas’s hand as they walk. He laces their fingers, and doesn’t think about who might see them, because the way Cas’s smile widens makes it worth it. 

“I think Sam might know about me for sure, though,” Dean says. “I’ve never told him. But the kid just kinda knows things.” 

“I’ve noticed that,” Cas says. “He’s very observant.” 

“Yeah. He’s a smart little twerp.” 

They come up on 28th street, and start across the parking lot of the Bunker. 

“You thirsty or anything?” Dean asks as he unlocks the apartment door. “You sure you don’t want to go in the pool for a couple hours?” 

Cas shakes his head. “I think I’ll be okay until tomorrow night.” 

“Alright. Are you tired?”

“Not really.”

“Me neither. We could watch a movie or somethin’ for a little?”

Cas nods. “I’d like that.” 

They go to Dean’s room to change into sweatpants, and Dean pokes his head into Sam’s on their way to check on him. The kid’s snoring softly, out like a light. 

“Is he alright?” Cas whispers as Dean closes the door until it’s cracked just a bit. 

“Yeah, he’s asleep,” Dean whispers back. 

Cas and Dean debate the DVD selection for a few minutes, before they decide on Caddyshack. Or rather, Dean suggests it, Cas looks dubious, and Dean insists that it’s a classic and they have to watch it. 

“Bill Murray is a _legend_ , Cas,” Dean says, crouching down to load the DVD. It takes his high brain a second to figure out the buttons, but he successfully gets it started. “You don’t know comedy until you’ve seen his movies.” 

“If you insist,” Cas says, sprawled over the couch. 

“Hey, make room.” Dean comes over and nudges at his knee, and Cas sits up. 

It’s only a minute into the movie and Dean’s already giggling at the dancing groundhog. 

“Look at it,” Dean points at the screen. “That’s so funny.” 

“Hm,” Cas says, unimpressed. “It doesn’t look very realistic.”

Dean elbows him. “It’s supposed to be _funny_ , you hardass. Not realistic.” 

Throughout the entire first half of the movie, it’s obvious that Dean’s the only one that appreciates the humor. He’s nearly tearing up with suppressed laughter, while Cas doesn’t even seem to be paying attention at all. 

“Are you watching?” Dean asks more than once, and while Cas answers “Yes” each time, when Dean glances over to check, Cas is watching him, instead. 

“Quit smiling at me like that,” Dean grouches at one point, feeling heat creeping up his neck. 

“I’m not.”

“Watch the movie.” 

“I am.” 

“You’re not appreciating this masterpiece, Cas.” 

“Yes, I am.” 

Dean turns to glare at him, but he loses his resolve at the sight of Cas’s soft expression and gentle smile.

“Quit lookin’ at me.” 

“I can’t help it.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, properly blushing. “You’re stoned.”

“Just a little.” 

Dean chuckles. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to kiss you,” Cas says. 

Falling quiet, Dean meets Cas’s eye. 

“Would that be alright?” Cas asks. 

Hesitating only briefly, Dean swallows. He clears his throat. “You don’t - I don’t want you to feel like you have to ask permission.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know. I’m just, I’m sorry I made it seem like it wasn’t okay. You know, that we - ” He gestures between the two of them, his stomach fluttering at the use of the word ‘we’. “That we aren’t okay. Around my friends, I just, I don’t know, I - ”

“Get nervous,” Cas says. 

Dean nods. “...Yeah.” 

“That’s okay,” Cas says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” and he smiles, and it’s small but it’s encouraging, and Dean’s stomach hurts just a little. 

“Okay. Um, cool.” Dean swallows. “You can kiss me now.” 

So Cas does. 

Sitting side by side on the couch, both of their legs drawn up underneath them, they kiss in the space between them. For a moment, their lips are the only point of contact, before they inevitably gravitate towards one another. 

Dean slides a hand around Cas’s side, taking a handful of his t-shirt, and Cas cups the side of Dean’s face in his palm. With drugs still buzzing through him, Dean feels a little weightless with his eyes shut. Like he can feel the points on his body where Cas touches, but nothing else exists. 

It’s not enough, and Dean needs more of him. 

Without warning, and barely breaking the kiss, Dean unfolds his legs from beneath himself and climbs unceremoniously into Cas’s lap. Cas gasps but obviously has no objections, his arms coming around Dean and his lips parting in invitation. 

Dean slides his arms around Cas’s neck and his tongue into his mouth, and he doesn’t know if it’s the weed or Cas that’s making his head spin. 

When they break apart to catch their breath, Cas says, “Now who’s not watching the movie?” 

“Shut up,” Dean says with a smile. Straddling Cas’s lap, he slides both hands from Cas’s neck up into his hair. Cas tips his head back against the couch and just regards him with a searching gaze. 

“What’s that look for?” Dean asks, self conscious. Cas’s hair is impossibly soft between his fingers. 

“I just like looking at you,” Cas says, his hands splayed along Dean’s sides. Dean snorts. 

“Okay, weirdo.” 

Cas smiles lazily. 

“You tired?” Dean murmurs, and Cas nods. “Wanna go to my room?”

“Okay.” 

Dean makes to stand, but Cas’s fingers tighten on his waist and he doesn’t let him. 

“Dean,” he says, and his voice is serious. “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying here?” 

“Not at all,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “Really.” 

His eyes dart over Dean’s face for a moment, but then Cas smiles softly. “Okay. Thank you.” 

Dean smiles back. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed.” 

Dean stands, pulling Cas up from the couch. After Dean shuts off the TV, the living room falls dark and quiet, and Cas is a silent shadow standing in the middle. Finding Cas’s hand, Dean takes it and leads the way down the hall to his bedroom, where the neon sign outside casts a dull glow over the bed. 

“You’re gonna watch Caddyshack one of these days, though, Cas,” Dean whispers when they’re settled under the blankets. “And you’re gonna appreciate it.” 

Cas chuckles and rolls towards him. 

“Okay,” he whispers, his breath hot on Dean’s neck, and it makes him shiver. 

Castiel’s hand finds Dean under the covers, and slides over his middle, trailing across his ribcage. Tensing, Dean resists the urge to flinch away and reaches up to tangle his fingers with Cas’s and move their hands down so they’re resting on his belly, instead. He’s not sure if Cas notices, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Their intertwined hands rise and fall with Dean’s breath, and that’s all Dean focuses on as he drifts. They breathe, lying together in the dark, the occasional sound of a car passing on Coastal Highway and the faint trickling of Sam’s fish tank from across the hall. 

Still a little bit high, Dean has the vague sense of floating. Just before dropping off into sleep, he wonders if Cas can feel it, too.


	7. senior week pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Charli, who let me bounce some ideas off of her, I'm pretty sure I've got the rest of this story mapped out. <3
> 
> As always, feedback is more than appreciated!

Before Dean even opens his eyes, when he’s still in that drifting state of almost surfacing but not-quite-awake, he feels it. 

An uneasiness. 

It’s like a gnawing sensation in the back of his brain, and he’s not awake enough to fight it. He doesn’t know how long he dozes like that, with his stomach in knots and his sleepy thoughts racing. He’s vaguely aware of a warm presence in bed with him, and his insides twist. 

Cas. 

It’s the second night they’ve shared a bed - is that okay? What if Sam had come in last night to see if they were home and saw them? 

And Sam. 

Dean checked on him when he got in, didn’t he? He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t have, he always does, but he’s not sure. Did he feed the kid dinner last night? Do they have enough for breakfast? 

Dean doesn’t know how long he lies there for, half-asleep and worrying. He’s vaguely aware of his aching stomach and tense muscles, but eventually his thoughts get loud enough to wake him. 

Blinking his eyes open, he takes a deep breath. He lies there a minute, taking stock. He breathes, and lets the pieces fall back into place in his mind. 

Dinner. Sam being bitchy. Boardwalk blaze. Caddyshack. Making out on the couch… 

He turns his head to glance at Cas, and smiles despite himself. Cas is facing him, his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks and his breathing deep and even. Dean studies the way the early morning light limns the ends of Cas’s hair from where it comes in the window over his shoulder, and he tries to match his breathing. 

Concentrating on that, Dean works on convincing himself that he doesn’t have anything to worry about at the moment. Sam is taken care of, he still has enough food in the fridge, and they’re all in bed, warm and safe. 

Stupid weed. This is why he doesn’t smoke very often. It makes him twitchy. 

Usually, though, it only lasts a few hours at most the next morning. Definitely not three fucking days. 

By Friday evening, he doesn’t know what to do with all this pent-up restless energy. To make matters worse, it’s been raining non-stop since Thursday morning. Cas can’t go outside, obviously, and Dean’s been staying in with him to keep him company. But by Friday afternoon, he’s climbing the walls. 

“Dean,” Cas says, the third time Dean gets up while the three of them lie around in the living room, watching a movie. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, but doesn’t stop his route to the kitchen. He’s already done all the dishes, scrubbed the counters, and taken out the trash. He opens the fridge. Maybe it needs to be cleaned out - he hasn’t done that in a while. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Cas asks from the doorway. It’s not the first time he’s asked, but every time he has Dean’s just waved him off. 

“Yeah, man,” Dean says from where he’s bent over the refrigerator. He pulls out some old-looking leftovers and straightens to toss them in the trash. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Cleanin’ this thing out,” Dean says without looking at him. “It’s nasty.” 

“Why are you doing that now?” Cas crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe to watch him. 

“Why not?” Dean shuffles some more things around. Maybe he should just take everything out and wipe down the inside. He hesitates. Yeah, that’s a good idea. He starts grabbing things off the door and moving them to the counter. 

“You’re restless,” Cas observes. 

“I’m not,” Dean drops the ketchup, and the cap pops open, squirting its contents over the vinyl flooring. “Fucking - ”

Groaning, Dean grabs a few paper towels and runs them under the sink. 

“Dean.” 

“I don’t need help. Go watch the movie.” 

“Dean - ”

“Seriously, Cas, I don’t - ” 

Suddenly Cas is behind him, and sliding his hand over Dean’s wrist. It’s only then that he realizes he’s leaning over the sink, the water on full blast, holding the wet paper towel loosely in one hand. His other hand is busy digging his knuckles sharply into his side. 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs, pulling his hand away gently. Jaw tight, Dean doesn’t allow his fist to relax, keeping it clenched. “Breathe.” 

“I’m okay,” Dean says. His gaze remains trained into the sink. He watches Cas turn the water off. 

“You’re agitated.” 

“I’m fine.” He pulls his hand out of Cas’s, distancing himself. His breath is coming a little fast - he didn’t notice before now. 

“Let me help,” Cas ducks his head to catch his eye, but Dean steps away when Cas reaches for him again. 

“No. I don’t need help,” Dean shakes his head. “I just - I get like this, sometimes, and I - I can handle it. I just need to clean up the floor, I gotta - ”

“De’?” 

Dean and Cas both turn to find Sam in the doorway. Dean swallows, and he breathes.

“Why don’t you go for a run?” Sam suggests quietly. 

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, paper towel still clutched in one hand, Dean looks at his little brother. Dean blinks. 

It’s been a long time since Sam’s suggested that. He used to do it a lot, when they’d first moved back. When Dean spent more time worrying, chewing his nails and digging at his ribs, than he did talking. He remembers how his dad looked at him, and he’s standing in the kitchen with Sam and Cas but he’s thinking of his father, and the first time he saw him look afraid. 

Bobby had insisted Dean would be okay, that he was just a little shell-shocked after their week in the shed. That he needed time to get back into the routine of a stationary lifestyle. That they all did. But John hadn’t looked convinced, had said _‘You didn’t see him, Bobby. You didn’t see him the first time he went quiet.’_

And it was Sam, six years old but going on sixty and wise, who had suggested Dean run. Because Sam knew, when he was hyper and couldn’t sit still, his big brother would make him run around to burn off his extra energy, and it usually worked. 

Dean swallows. He nods. 

“Cas and I can clean up the floor,” Sam says. “Go for a run, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Dean nods again. “Okay.” 

He passes off the soggy paper towel to Sam. “I’m gonna go get my shoes.”

On his way out of the kitchen, Dean sees Cas try and come after him out of the corner of his eye, but Sam catches his arm. 

“He’s okay, Cas,” he hears Sam murmur, and they let him go. 

After quickly changing into shorts and tugging on his sneakers, Dean nods at Cas and Sam on his way out. 

The clouds make it seem even later into the evening than it is, and it’s still raining steadily, but Dean hardly feels it. He hits the parking lot running, heading left towards the inlet when he reaches the sidewalk. 

The very end is just over two miles from the Bunker, and it’s about when he gets there that he feels himself start to settle. He slows to a more reasonable pace, no longer running flat out as if to escape himself. There’s the steady, regular slapping of his feet, and the matching pounding of his heart, and he finds it comforting. He pulls in lungful after lungful of air, but his breaths feel strong and reliable for the first time in three days. 

At the inlet, he crosses to the bay side and changes direction, heading back north. The rain falls consistently, but just serves to keep him cool. Someone honks as he runs through the puddles on the sidewalk, and he ignores it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s passed the Bunker again until he comes up on the water park. Just a few more blocks, and then he’ll turn around. 

It’s not until he gets caught at a red light at the intersection of 44th street and has to pull up that he realizes he’s tired. He’s breathing hard, legs shaking a little. It’s been a while since he’s run like this. 

He leans forward for a minute, hands on his knees, waiting for the light to change. When it does, he crosses back to the ocean side and turns back for the Bunker. The last half mile he takes easy, jogging steadily until he reaches the parking lot, where he slows to a walk. 

After a couple laps of the lot at a walk, Dean’s heart rate has come down and he feels more or less recovered. Picking at his sweaty t-shirt, he heads back to the apartment. 

Sam and Cas are still in the living room when he gets in, their movie almost over. Cas looks up as Dean comes by. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean announces to them with a wave. Pulling off his soaked shirt with a grimace, he makes his way down the hall. 

Dean takes his time in the shower, just standing for a while and letting the hot water beat down on his sore shoulders. He’s been so tense lately that he can feel it in his muscles. They loosen, though, and by the time he shuts off the water he feels several times better. 

He wraps a towel around his waist, scoops up his sweaty clothes from the floor and makes for his room. Shutting the door behind himself, Dean tosses his clothes into his hamper, looks up, and startles. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean says with a shake of his head. Cas studies him from where he stands in the middle of Dean’s bedroom. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I apologize. How was your run?” 

Dean nods. “It was good.” 

“That’s good.” 

They stand there and gaze at one another, Cas looking like there’s more he wants to say. 

“Are you feeling better?” Cas asks, and seems almost guilty for asking. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, and he offers him a smile. “I am feeling better.” 

Cas deflates in visible relief, and smiles. “I’m glad. I don’t mean to pester you. Sam told me to ‘give you space’, but I couldn’t help myself, and I wanted to make sure - ”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean says with a chuckle, and stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” 

Cas suddenly throws his arms around Dean’s neck, and Dean laughs in surprise. 

“Cas - watch it, I’ll drip on your legs - ”

But when Cas kisses him, Dean kisses back with immediate enthusiasm, still chuckling. Dean holds onto the sides of Cas’s t-shirt and tilts his head, slotting their mouths more firmly together. He makes a happy noise in his throat when Cas’s hands wander down Dean’s torso, skimming over his belly to rest on his naked waist. 

When they pull away, Dean tips his forehead against Cas’s and closes his eyes with a sigh. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “For being weird.”

“No,” Cas says seriously, and Dean opens his eyes when Cas’s hand comes up to his face. “Don’t apologize.” 

Dean nods with a small smile. 

After Cas heads back to the living room to give Dean some privacy, Dean gets changed into sweats and wanders after him. Sam gives Dean a smile when he comes in, and lets him ruffle his hair on his way to the couch without too much of a bitch face. 

They start yet another movie, but it’s only ten minutes in when Dean falls asleep. Distantly aware of his head resting on Cas’s thigh as they share the tiny couch, Dean lets himself drift off. When he thinks he feels Cas’s fingers comb through his hair, it feels so good that he doesn’t even bother worrying about Sam seeing. 

Pleasantly exhausted from his run, and on the couch with Cas’s hand in his hair and his brother across the room, Dean sleeps better than he has in two nights. 

***

Dean wakes up disoriented. There’s a crick in his neck, and his hand tingles from the way he’s lying on his arm. Dragging it out from under himself and clenching and unclenching his fist to dispell to pins and needles, Dean blinks around. 

The living room is dark but for the TV, which plays some late-night infomercial with the sound down low. Across the room, the glow from the screen is just bright enough for Dean to discern a figure curled up in the armchair. Too big to be Sam. 

“Cas?” Dean whispers. 

Cas doesn’t stir. Dean should know by now it takes a lot. 

Rubbing his eyes, Dean stretches until his back pops. He squints hard at the time glowing from the DVD player - 1:27am. Damn, he’s been sleeping over four hours. 

Getting up slow, he fumbles for the remote on the coffee table. He misses the power button a few times, pulling up a menu instead, and jams at it until the stupid thing finally shuts off. The living room falls into pitch darkness. 

“Shit,” he mumbles. 

Feeling his way across the room, Dean has a hand out to grab onto the armchair when he stubs his toe on the leg of the table, hard. 

“Fuck,” he mutters emphatically, and all but falls forward onto Castiel, catching himself with a hand on his thigh and one on the armrest. 

Cas jolts, his eyes flying open. “Wha - ”

“Sorry!” Dean whispers, straightening up. “Sorry.” 

“Are you alright?” Cas blinks at him, unfolding himself from where he had his legs curled up on the cushion. 

“Yeah,” Dean whispers. “C’mon.” 

He takes Cas’s wrist, tugging him up off the armchair. They shuffle together across the carpet, Dean leading the way with his fingers trailing along the wall for guidance. 

A quick peek into Sam’s room shows the kid curled up tight and fast asleep. Dean heads for his own, pulling Cas along gently. 

Shutting the door behind them, he doesn’t bother turning on the light. It’s quiet, the night time noises muffled behind the window. Cas doesn’t move from where he stands in the middle of the room, but Dean can feel his presence, can see where his shadow creates an even darker splotch against the black. Dean finds him in the dark. 

His knuckles bump Cas’s hip, first, and Dean shuffles close to slide his hand over his waist. He hears Castiel inhale. 

Stepping into each other’s space, the two of them reach for the other, quietly. It’s mindless, the way they gravitate towards one another, almost sleepy. When they’re breathing each other’s air in the space between them, Dean leans in to nudge his face into Cas’s neck, nosing at his jaw. 

Cas’s hands curl around Dean’s hips and Dean presses his lips to the sensitive skin below Cas’s ear and hears him let his breath out long and slow. Dean swallows, and does it again. Cas’s fingers tighten on his sides. 

Each kiss Dean lays moves closer to Cas’s mouth. Over the bolt of his jaw, one on his chin, on the corner of his lips. He pulls away, and can just barely make out the glint of Cas’s eye in the dark as he looks at him. 

He sees Cas blink slowly, and then Dean leans in and kisses him on the mouth. 

Their lips slot together easily, dry and warm. They press in close, flush to one another, and Dean tilts his head and opens his mouth. 

Their tongues drag together, slow. His eyes shut, Dean can only hear the sounds of their breaths and his own pulse in his ears, and he tries to pull Cas in closer. Dean licks into Cas’s mouth, eliciting a sound from deep in Cas’s throat that Dean swallows. 

Clutching each other, they make out in the dark, standing in Dean’s bedroom in the middle of the night. 

Pushing at Cas’s hips, Dean crowds in close, herding him backwards towards the bed. When Cas’s heels hit the mattress, he drops down onto it and pulls Dean along with two handfuls of his t-shirt. Dean takes a second to breathe while Cas shuffles backwards up the bed, but then follows. 

“This okay?” Dean whispers, crawling up Cas’s body until their faces are level. Cas nods against the pillow, and slots a hand around the back of Dean’s neck to pull him down into another kiss. 

Propped up over him, Dean feels Cas’s other hand slide to the small of his back, under his t-shirt. He sucks Cas’s lower lip into his mouth. In response, Cas tightens his fingers on Dean’s back, and Dean inhales sharply at the dull bite of his fingernails. The sensation causes a warm tingling low in his belly, and Dean deepens the kiss. 

It’s not long before they’re gasping softly, kissing with mouths wide. Dean’s skin feels hot. 

He wants to hear more of those little sounds, so Dean slots a thigh between Cas’s, dropping to his elbows to get closer. They’re flushed chest to pelvis, but Cas hasn’t moved his hand from low on Dean’s back, and Dean needs him to stop being so careful with him. 

He breaks off the kiss, tipping his head away and Cas tries to follow, chasing him with his mouth. 

“Don’t be afraid to touch me,” Dean breathes, and he pairs his words with a soft grind of hips, deliberately dragging his thigh over the hardness in Cas’s sweats. 

The reaction he gets is _exactly_ what he intended. 

Cas gasps, mouth going wide, and his hands tighten around Dean. 

“Feel good?” Dean whispers. 

When Dean grinds into him again, harder, things just get better. 

Without warning, Cas loops an arm around Dean’s waist and twists his body, flipping them completely so Dean’s pressed flat on his back with Cas on top of him. 

Dean just gapes at him a moment, flushing. Fuck, that was hot. 

“Is this okay?” Cas asks, and at this angle the light from the neon sign is cast across his face just enough for Dean to see his pupils blown wide and his lips spit-slick and swollen. 

“Yeah, it’s - it’s more than okay,” Dean stutters, and he barely gets the words out before Cas is kissing him again. 

Cas’s skin is hot where Dean has his hands up the back of his shirt. He rucks his t-shirt up around his ribs, skimming his fingers over the muscles of his back and squeezing. 

When Cas kisses over Dean’s jaw, Dean turns his head to the side to give him better access. Cas lays an open-mouthed kiss in the divot where Dean’s neck meets his collarbone, and Dean pulls in air with a gasp. He flexes his hips upward, and Cas responds by grinding down into him, hard. The sound that Cas makes, muffled into the side of Dean’s neck, makes Dean dizzy. 

Dean tugs Cas’s shirt up under his armpits. 

“Cas,” Dean gasps, and Cas sits up, straddling Dean’s hips, long enough for Dean to help him pull his shirt over his head. It hits the floor. 

Working to get out of his own shirt, Dean twists awkwardly from where he lies on his back, and he doesn’t get it off until Cas grabs a handful and helps untangle him from it. 

Both now bare chested, their mouths meet again with a new fervor. Dean’s fingers dig into Cas’s naked sides, urging him closer, and he slides one hand down to grab a handful of Cas’s ass and pull his hips down to meet his own, just as a car door slams, loud, close outside the window. 

They both startle, and break apart. Gasping, they stare at one another for a long moment. Dean strains his ears. 

There’s a shuffling from outside, and the sound of a pair of keys hitting the pavement. A muffled curse, and Dean recognizes the sound immediately. 

Dean pushes at Cas’s chest and sits up. 

“Who is that?” Cas whispers.

“It’s my dad.”

Well, there’s one way to kill a boner. 

Cas sits back on his heels, giving Dean room to swing his legs over the side of the mattress. His heart still pounding hard, Dean stands, and Cas makes to come after him. 

“Stay here,” Dean says with a staying hand to his shoulder. 

“Dean - ”

“Stay,” Dean repeats with a look. “Please.”

Though Cas looks reluctant, he settles back on his heels. Dean grabs one of their t-shirts from the floor and pulls it over his head, not even caring that it’s inside out. 

The apartment door bursts open just as Dean steps into the hall, and a large figure stumbles over the doorway. Dean swallows and watches his dad kick the door shut with a booted foot, drop his duffle at his feet, and stagger to the kitchen. 

_God dammit._

Dean’s about to go after him when he hears a small voice behind him. 

“Beanie?” 

Dean hasn’t heard that nickname in years, and it draws him up short. His stomach clenching, Dean turns to see Sam standing in his bedroom doorway. The kid looks tiny in John’s old t-shirt. 

Dean responds with words that come out naturally, without thought. 

“It’s okay, Sammy.” 

“Is that dad?” Sam’s eyes are wide in the dim light. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Go back to your bed.” 

“But Dean - ”

“No,” Dean says sternly, and points over Sam’s shoulder, into his room. “Go back to bed.” 

Sam huffs, but does as he’s told, and Dean pulls his door shut most of the way. With a glance back into his own room, he sees Cas standing in the middle and he shakes his head at him, once, before heading to the kitchen. 

Dean blinks against the light of the open refrigerator, a rectangle illuminated on the cheap vinyl floor and broken only by the shadow of John crouching in its doorway. He hesitates. 

“Dad?” He says softly. 

John startles and straightens up fast, whipping around. Raising his hands placatingly, Dean forces himself not to take a step back. 

“Sorry,” Dean says, and John relaxes when he sees who it is. He turns back to the fridge. 

“Where’s my beer?” He grouches.

Dean swallows. He and Cas definitely shared the last one the other night. “I dunno.”

“You drink my beer?” John growls, his words slurring spectacularly. Dean surveys him. 

“You drive home like this?” Dean asks, stomach in knots. 

John snorts, and shuts the refrigerator with too much force. Dean hears things rattle on the door, and something fall. 

“You a cop now, big guy?” John taunts, but he doesn’t look at Dean, too busy opening the cupboard over the sink, apparently searching for something stronger. 

“I don’t think you need any more to drink,” Dean says, working hard to keep his voice steady and strong. When John turns to face him, Dean’s stomach pitches violently and he imagines bolting, but forces his feet to stay where they are. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” John says, and he makes Dean feel tiny when he looks directly at him. Dean drops his gaze. “You got any other opinions you wanna share, Dean?” 

“No, sir,” Dean says to the floor a foot from his dad’s feet. “Just thought you might wanna go to bed.” 

He watches John’s boots step towards him, and despite the way he screams at himself in his head to _hold your fucking ground, you goddamn pussy_ , he takes a step backwards, into the hall. 

“Are you judgin’ me, boy?” John growls. “I thought I get enough of that shit from your brother. Huh?”

Shaking his head, Dean says nothing. 

“Answer me, Dean,” John says, loudly, and all of a sudden he’s in Dean’s space and Dean’s being crowded across the hall until his back hits the wall. John’s got a fistful of the collar of Dean’s shirt, and he gets in his face. 

To his left, Dean sees a figure step out into the hallway, tense and bristling. Shaking his head ever so slightly, Dean lifts a hand out towards Cas to stop him from coming closer. 

“You judgin’ me?” John repeats. 

Blinking at a spot over his dad’s shoulder, Dean shakes his head. “No, sir. I’m not. I was just trying to help.” 

John stands over him, quiet, for a long moment. He’s only got about two inches on Dean these days, but it still feels like he towers. The knuckles of the hand gripping his shirt are against Dean’s throat, and Dean wonders if John can feel his pulse pounding. 

“No,” John finally says, and his voice is quieter. Using his peripheral vision and discreet glances that he’s perfected over the years, Dean gauges John’s expression. He watches it soften, and his dad relaxes slowly. His fist loosens. “No,” he says again, and smooths Dean’s shirt down over his collarbone with his huge hand. “You’re a good kid, Dean.” 

Dean works to keep his breathing even. 

“Huh?” John says, and he takes Dean’s jaw in his hand, not roughly, and turns his face so they’re eye to eye. “You’re a good kid.” 

The expression on John’s face is soft, and there’s something distant in his eye that Dean’s never seen before and doesn’t recognize, and it scares him shitless. All the energy seems to leave his dad in a rush, and he suddenly looks exhausted. 

Dean watches his throat bob, and John pats Dean on the cheek, twice. Slowly, Dean reaches up and takes his wrist. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Dean murmurs, watching closely as if he’s convincing a wild animal to follow him down the hall. “That sound okay?” 

John blinks. Finally, he nods, dropping his hand away from Dean’s face. 

“Okay,” Dean says. “C’mon, Dad.” 

Gently, Dean leads his dad down the hall. He catches a glimpse of Cas stepping back into his room as he turns around, but is confident that his dad didn’t see a thing. 

John’s door creaks as Dean opens it, and he steers his dad to his bed. John collapses onto it immediately, over the blankets. 

“Take your boots off,” Dean says. When his dad doesn’t make a move, Dean steps forward and does it for him, swiftly unlacing them and tugging them off his dad’s feet to toss them in the corner. 

“You’re good boys,” John slurs into the pillow, his eyes already closed, but it’s muffled and Dean’s not sure if he hears correctly. 

Dean swallows, standing over his dad in the dark with his stomach twisting. He jams a thumb between his ribs, hard. 

“Do you need water?” 

“Dean ‘n’ Sam,” John mumbles. “Good boys.” 

His dad starts snoring. Dean watches him for several minutes, his heart beating in his ears, before he turns sharply and goes back to the kitchen for water. After leaving a large glass next to a few Advil on John’s bedside table, he leaves him, shutting the door with a click. 

Cas is standing right inside Dean’s bedroom when he slips inside. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, and his voice is hard. 

“Yeah,” Dean says without looking at him. He tugs his shirt over his head by the back of the collar and tosses it on the floor. 

“Your father - ”

“He’s fine,” Dean says. “Just had a little too much to drink.” 

“I thought he was going to strike you,” Cas says, and he sounds angry, making Dean turn to look at him. 

Dean shakes his head. “No. I knew he wouldn’t.” 

Cas scrutinizes him. “I was worried.” 

“Well, there was no need to be,” Dean says shortly. He straightens the covers on his bed, where the two of them had rumpled them just minutes before, and pulls them back to climb inside. “Are you gettin’ in bed or not?” 

And Dean crawls onto his mattress, sliding under the covers and burrowing down on the side closest to the wall. He lies with his back facing Cas, and just listens. A long moment passes before Cas finally follows, getting into bed without a word and taking a minute to get settled. 

They both lie still for a long time. 

“Dean?” Cas murmurs eventually. 

“Yeah.” 

The mattress bounces softly as Cas rolls towards him, and Dean feels his arm come around his middle. Though he stiffens at first, Dean forces himself to relax as Cas scoots in close at Dean’s back. He tucks his knees in behind Dean’s, and plants a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. 

After a moment, Dean takes Cas’s wrist and pulls his arm more securely around him, before lacing their fingers. Folded closely together, Dean lets himself relax into the warmth of Cas’s body. Their feet tangle together, and Dean can feel Cas’s breath on the back of his neck. 

Taking a deep breath, Dean lets the tension seep out of his body, even just a little.

Right now, it’s enough. 

***

Dean opens his eyes to the sight of Cas sitting cross-legged on the floor in a patch of sunlight coming through the window, chugging a glass of water. There are two other empties next to him. 

Cas catches him looking, and lowers the glass with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.” 

Dean shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’ll go get the key to room one. You can wait here.”

Getting out of bed with a stretch, Dean collects the empty glasses and heads for the kitchen. He needs to tell Cas that they’re reusable, and he doesn’t have to get a new one every time. 

John’s bedroom door is open when Dean goes by, and it makes him pause. Cautiously, he peers in. His dad’s bed is empty. 

Frowning, Dean gets his shoes from the living room and tugs them on. He leaves through the front door, and glances around the side of the building on his way. The truck is there, parked incredibly crooked outside the apartment, but the Impala’s gone. Dean chews his lip nervously.

Ellen’s working the front desk, and Dean makes slightly stilted small talk with her until he gets a chance to snag the key for room one off the wall. 

Dean’s distracted as he gets the tub set up for Cas, standing too long with his hand under the running faucet as if checking the temperature. 

“Dean,” Cas says from behind him. “I think that’s fine.” 

“Oh,” Dean says, looking down at the nearly full tub. “Sorry.” 

Cas strips, and Dean watches the wall politely until he hears Cas sigh as he gets settled, the bright light from his transformation dying down in his peripheral vision. 

“Alright,” Dean says. “You okay here for a couple hours?” 

Cas nods. 

“Anything you need?” 

Cas shakes his head. 

“Okay,” Dean nods. “I’m gonna go make Sammy some breakfast. Come back whenever you’re ready, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Dean smiles, and turns to go. 

“Wait,” Cas says. 

Dean turns back. “Yeah?” 

Slowly, Cas smiles, his head leaning lazily against the side of the tub. “Come here.” 

Getting the hint, Dean bites at his lower lip to hold back his own slow-growing grin. He saunters close, making a show of his approach. 

“Yes?” He asks teasingly. 

“Closer.” 

Dean crouches next to him, hands hanging between his knees. Looking up at Cas from under his lashes, he tilts his head. 

“Can I help you?” 

Reaching out with a wet hand, Cas drips on the floor as he grabs hold of the front of Dean’s t-shirt and pulls him down to himself. With a soft chuckle, Dean goes easily, and he feels Cas’s grin against his lips as their mouths meet. 

They kiss lazily for a long moment, and when Cas finally pulls away, it’s with a gentle tug of Dean’s lower lip between his teeth. Dean groans softly, and takes his time opening his eyes. 

“You good now?” He murmurs jokingly. 

“Yes,” Cas says, his eyes soft as they search Dean’s face. “I’m good now.” 

Dean smiles. “Don’t soak in here too long.”

“I won’t.” 

They kiss once more, shortly, before Dean finally straightens up. He’s still biting back a smile as he walks back to the apartment. 

Sam shuffles into the kitchen as Dean’s getting milk from the fridge, the cereal already out on the table. 

“No eggs?” Sam mumbles, heading to the cabinet for bowls for the both of them. 

“We’re out,” Dean says, and the two of them settle together at the little table in the corner. 

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asks with his mouth full, dripping milk down his chin. 

“Gross, dude,” Dean ribs. “He’s in room one.” 

“Hm. Where’s Dad?” 

“Uh, I don’t know.”

That question gets answered when they hear the apartment door opening down the hall. They both look at each other as familiar, heavy footsteps come towards the kitchen. 

Cereal momentarily forgotten, they watch as their dad appears in the doorway, where he stops when he catches sight of them at the table. He’s changed his clothes since last night, and looks like he’s showered.

“Mornin’, boys,” he says. He holds something out, and it’s only then that Dean notices that he has a purple box in his hand. “I brought breakfast.” 

Dean and Sam stare at him a moment, before sharing a glance between them. 

“Fractured Prune?” Sam asks dubiously, and takes the box from their dad. 

“Yeah,” John nods. “Thought it might be better than cereal, huh?” 

Pushing his half-eaten bowl of cereal out of the way, Sam lays the box on the table and lifts the lid. Inside are six donuts, and the sweet smell of them wafts out immediately. Sam goes for the strawberry glazed. 

“Oh, heck yeah,” Sam says as he bites into it. There’s no way he’s finishing his cereal, now. 

With a glance at his dad, Dean sees the corner of his mouth twitch as he watches Sam devour the donut. Dean gets up, taking their bowls to the sink. 

“What are you boys doin’ today?” John asks, his body a long line stretching diagonally across the doorway from where he leans a shoulder on the jamb. 

Dean starts the sink, and rinses the bowls out under the water. 

“Dunno,” Sam says. “Might go to the beach.” 

John grunts, and there’s a pause, and Dean can feel his dad’s eyes on him. 

“Dean, you goin’, too?” 

Dean shrugs and keeps his eyes on the dishes. “I guess.” 

“You gonna eat a donut?” 

Shutting off the water, Dean lays the bowls upside down on a towel to dry. “In a minute.” 

“I got apple cinnamon for you,” his dad says. 

Finally, Dean turns. “Yeah, thanks.” 

His dad surveys him from across the room, and Dean looks away. He grabs the milk and cereal from the table and puts them away, aware of his dad’s eyes following him. When he can’t stand the way it makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle any longer, Dean grabs the apple cinnamon donut from the box. 

He catches Sam’s eye for a second, who looks just as weirded out by this whole scenario. Since when does John Winchester get up early to pick up donuts for breakfast? 

“Anyway, Dean,” John says, straightening up. “When I was drivin’ around I noticed the Impala’s got a rattle.”

Dean had noticed it, too, about four days ago. He was planning on asking Bobby about it. Is that what this is about? John thinks Dean isn’t taking care of the car, and is gonna bitch at him about the rattle under the hood? 

“I was gonna open her up and take a look, see what I see. You interested in giving me some help?” 

Dean’s chewing stills as he freezes, and he looks up at his dad. 

“Me?” He asks stupidly, swallowing a mouthful of donut with some difficulty. But instead of rolling his eyes and getting annoyed at the idiotic question, John chuckles lowly. 

“Yeah, you, kid. I figured you’d want to.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, probably too quickly. “Yeah, I wanna help.” 

John nods, looking pleased. “Alright. Finish up your donut and meet me outside.” 

“Okay, yeah, I’ll - I’ll meet you outside,” Dean stammers, and John nods and heads out. 

“Sam, close that box up when you’re done, okay?” Dean says, shoving the rest of his donut in his mouth and brushing off his hands as he strides out of the kitchen. 

He changes out of his pajamas quickly, tugging on a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt, and crosses to the bathroom to brush his teeth. After a glance in the mirror, he drags his fingers through his hair a few times to try and flatten it, but doesn’t take more time than that on it before heading back down the hall. 

“Don’t eat more than two of those,” Dean warns with a point at his little brother as he goes by. 

“I won’t,” Sam grumbles. 

“And save the blueberry one for Cas!” Dean calls over his shoulder, and he heads out of the door in a rush. 

His dad is pulling his toolbox out of the bed of his truck when Dean meets him in the lot. 

“Start her up and we can have a listen,” he says, and tosses the keys to Dean, who snags them from the air easily as he gets into the Impala to start it. 

“So, you’ve noticed the noise?” John asks, and he comes over to lean into the open driver’s side doorway. 

Dean nods. “Yeah.” 

“Not as loud when you’re idling, right?” 

Dean nods again. 

“Give it some gas.” 

Dean does as he’s told, revving the engine, and the rattling gets proportionally louder. 

“So what do you think?” John asks. 

Sneaking a glance at his dad, Dean doesn’t answer for a moment. He clears his throat. 

“Um. Well, I was thinking loose heat shield, at first.” 

“But?” 

Dean licks his lips. “But it sounds like it’s coming from up front, so it’s probably not that.” 

Unexpectedly, John cracks a smile at him, and Dean suddenly feels lighter in his chest. 

“Good answer, kid. Let’s check it out.” He slaps a hand on the roof. “Shut her off.” 

With the engine off, Dean comes around the front as John lifts the hood and props it open. 

“Any other ideas?” He asks. 

“Well,” Dean says, eyes focused under the hood. “Could be a loose pulley, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” John says, and Dean feels himself beaming, so he keeps his gaze down. “We’ll take the belt off and see how they look.” 

They work side by side, not sharing many words between them. Dean glances at his dad from time to time when he knows he’s not looking, as they take apart pieces of the Impala for inspection. 

There’s no way John feels awesome this morning, considering how he looked last night, but the man’s always done a decent job at hiding his hangovers. He doesn’t say anything about coming home completely tanked at two in the morning, and Dean sure as shit doesn’t mention it, either. 

It turns out a loose V belt pulley was the problem, and John hands Dean the tools to tighten it. Though he hesitates at first, Dean takes the wrench and gets to work. 

“So,” John says from where he has a hip resting on the front quarter panel, Dean elbow deep in the engine. “Things go okay here while I was gone?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, concentrating on his work. “Things were fine.” 

“Good,” John nods in his peripheral vision. “You doin’ okay on groceries still?” 

For dinner the night before, Dean had toasted bread on the stovetop, loaded it with all the shredded cheddar he found in the fridge and had called it grilled cheese. Sam and Cas hadn’t complained, though. 

“Uh, we could use some more,” he says. 

“Sure,” John replies, and there’s something strange in his voice that catches Dean’s attention, making him glance up. “I’ll give you some money.” 

John talks Dean through replacing the belt, and claps him on the shoulder when it’s finished. 

“Nice work, Dean,” he says, and Dean avoids his eye when he feels his face heat with the praise. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean says, dropping the hood of the car back down. 

At John’s instruction, Dean gets in and starts the car, and bites back a proud smile when she growls to life and everything sounds normal. 

“Sweet,” Dean mutters to himself. 

“Sounds good,” John says, leaning again into the open doorway, an arm resting on the roof. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods, and shuts the car back off. 

A moment passes, and John doesn’t move away from the door. When Dean glances at him, it’s to find John staring at him, his face set but his gaze sort of tight and unfocused. He has a frown between his dark eyes, and Dean immediately feels unsettled. He fidgets. 

“Uh,” Dean says, still trapped in the front seat with John blocking the doorway. “Anyway…” 

John blinks. He clears his throat, and he pushes off the roof of the car to straighten up. 

“Yeah. Nice job with the car,” he repeats. 

Weirded out by his behavior, Dean keeps a wary eye on his dad as he climbs from the car and shuts the door. John just stands there a moment, and Dean’s fingers twitch. 

As Dean watches, John opens his mouth as if to say something, but shuts it again, and it’s a sight Dean’s never seen in his eighteen years of life - John Winchester, looking unsure. It makes him uneasy. 

“Is there… anything else you need?” Dean asks cautiously. 

“No,” John clears his throat again and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Okay,” Dean says slowly. “Well, I’m gonna… go.” 

John nods, and he seems to snap out of his strange behavior as he bends to pick up his toolbox. 

“I’m gonna check with Ellen, make sure things were all good here this week.” 

“Okay,” Dean says. 

He doesn’t move from where he stands until John finally turns away to swing his toolbox back into the truck. 

“I’ll, uh,” Dean says, “see you around, I guess.” 

He makes his escape from the awkward situation. 

***

When Cas has been gone for over four hours, Dean finally goes looking for him. If he’s not ready to get out of the tub, Dean will at least hang out with him in the bathroom - he has nothing else to do. Dean had agreed that Sam could meet some friends on the beach, as long as the kid promised not to go in the water past his knees, or wander further than a block down the beach in either direction. While he had rolled his eyes, Sam had agreed. Dean doesn’t want Sam to have to be the kid whose big brother follows him everywhere like a nervous chaperone, but ever since he left Dean hasn’t known what to do with himself. Might as well go see Cas. 

Dean’s confused, however, when he ventures to room one to find it empty, the tub drained and dry and Cas’s clothes missing. 

Frowning, Dean shuts the door behind him and stands for a moment under the portico, looking out over the parking lot. 

What the hell? Cas definitely didn’t come back to the apartment, so where else would he be? 

Hands on his hips, Dean is telling himself that there’s no reason for him to start worrying, just as a door to one of the motel rooms opens to his left, towards the other end. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Deans hears, and he recognizes Cas’s voice immediately. While he tries not to admit it to himself, he lets out his breath in relief. He starts walking that way. 

“ - if you need to, okay, honey?” Missouri is standing in the doorway to her room when Dean approaches, an affectionate hand on Cas’s arm. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Cas repeats, and he catches sight of Dean and smiles. “Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Missouri says with a smile. “Castiel and I were just visiting for a while.” 

“She gave me this,” Cas says, and holds a box out for Dean to see. It’s a puzzle, the picture on the front of an elaborate garden, with bees flying around the colorful flowers. “Isn’t it beautiful?” 

“Yeah, that’s neat,” Dean says. He offers Missouri a small smile. “How are you, Missouri?” 

“Oh, I’m just fine, child,” she says. “I saw that your father’s home. That beauty of a car doing okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean says. “She just needed a little tune-up, is all.” 

“Oh, don’t we all, honey,” she says with a feathery laugh. “Speaking of, I told your father to come and see me last week and he’s yet to show himself. Stubborn as a mule, that one, especially when it comes to accepting a lighter burden.” She gives Dean a wry smile. “But apples and trees, right, sweetheart?” 

She offers him a wink, and Dean smiles politely, but doesn’t really know what that means, or what to say to it. 

“Anyway,” she says, and pats Cas’s elbow. “Castiel, dear, you come around again soon, you hearin’ me? I do enjoy our talks.” She gives Cas a look, and he nods back solemnly, and Dean suddenly feels like he’s missing something. He glances between them, puzzled. 

“I will, ma’am,” Cas says. 

“Alright, you two. You let me know when you finish that puzzle, won’t you?” 

Cas nods, and she beams at him. 

“Bye, Missouri,” Cas says. 

“Bye, boys. And you two be safe tonight, you hear?” 

They both agree, though Dean has no idea what she’s talking about, and they head back towards the apartment together. Rounding the corner, their knuckles brush between them. Dean feels Cas looking at him, and turns to smile at him. 

“Hi,” Dean says. 

“Hello,” Cas murmurs, the corners of his mouth lifting softly. 

“How was the tub?” 

“It was nice,” Cas says. 

“We can get that puzzle set up on the coffee table, if you want to,” Dean says as he opens the door for Cas, leaning back to let him into the apartment first. 

“I’d like that,” Cas replies, his eyes crinkling in the corners happily. 

They’re just laying out all the pieces, flipping them all to be right side up, when Dean’s phone starting vibrating from somewhere in the couch. Dean shuffles over on his knees and digs through the threadbare cushions until he finally finds it, and he flicks open the call just before it goes to voicemail. 

“Hello?”

“Guess what day it is!” Dean actually pulls the phone away from his ear a bit when Jo’s voice comes through, way too loud. 

“Saturday,” Dean says. 

“Very funny, Deanna,” Jo says, and he can almost hear her rolling her eyes. Settling back on the floor, Dean continues to flip puzzle pieces with his free hand. “It’s the first day of senior week!” 

“Oh,” Dean had forgotten. “Yeah.” 

“Don’t sound so excited,” she admonishes. “Ash and Andy and I are gonna find a party tonight, you in?” 

Beneath the table, Dean and Cas’s knees knock together when one of them reaches far for a puzzle piece. 

“Maybe,” Dean says. 

“What, you got anything else to do?” 

Dean glances across at Cas, who has his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth in concentration as he separates pieces. It’s endearing, and Dean gets caught looking at him for a moment. 

“Hell- _o?_ ” 

“Sorry,” Dean says, dropping his eyes back to the table. “Uh, no, I guess not.” 

“What are you doing?” Jo asks, suddenly sounding suspicious. 

“Nothing.” 

“Who are you with?” 

Dean hesitates. “Cas is here. We’re just hanging out.” 

“Oh,” Jo says, and he knows she’s smirking, and he feels his face heat. “Right. Well, bring Cas tonight. He’s cool, we like him.” 

There’s something in her voice that makes Dean pause, the way she used the word ‘we’ like she’s speaking for the rest of their group of friends, too. Dean blinks, not really knowing what to make of that. 

“Um. Okay,” he clears his throat. “I’ll ask him if he wants to. I’ll text you later, okay?” 

“Yeah, no problem. Tell Cas I say hi.” 

“Sure, I will.” 

Dean hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Cas asks. 

“It was Jo. She says hi.”

Cas nods. “I like her.” 

“Yeah,” Dean cracks a smile. “They like you, too.” 

Cas looks up. “They do?” 

“Of course,” Dean nudges Cas’s thigh with his knee. “What’s not to like?” 

Cas blushes, and Dean thinks it’s the greatest thing ever. 

“So, senior week starts tonight,” Dean says. 

“Oh, right,” Cas passes over a puzzle piece that belongs on Dean’s side of the table. “Jo wants to go?” 

“Yeah, she wants to find a party tonight.” 

Cas nods. 

“Do you… wanna go?” Dean asks. 

“Sure,” Cas says with a smile. “That sounds like fun. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Dean grins. “Cool. Yeah, Jo said she wants me to bring you.” 

“I’d like that,” Cas says, and he bites back a grin. 

Dean knocks his knee against him again, affectionately. “Awesome.” 

***

Dean doesn’t consider himself a lightweight by any means. In fact, he’s pretty confident in his ability to hold his own when it comes to drinking. 

Cas is a whole different story. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean says with a shake of his head as Cas downs his third shot in half an hour, with barely a grimace. 

“Who are you, the Hulk?” Jo asks with an incredulous chuckle. 

Cas places the solo cup on the desk. “What’s the Hulk?” 

“You don’t know who the Hulk is?” Ash asks, he and Andy working on eating their weed brownies. 

“He was sheltered,” Dean says as explanation, clapping Cas on the back. 

The five of them are in room one, with music playing softly on Jo’s portable speaker and two bottles of vodka between them. Who knew the motel room could have so many uses - harboring a merman by day, hosting an underaged pregame by night. 

“So what’s the word on the party, Joanna Beth?” Dean asks, nursing his drink. He’s had quite a few already, and is starting to feel the buzz of alcohol in his system. 

“There’s one on sixth,” Jo says as she pours herself another. 

“Who’s hosting it?” Andy asks. 

“Dunno,” Jo says. “Some PG county kid.” 

Dean doesn’t miss how they all glance at him. 

“Seriously? What are those looks for?” He grouches. 

“No reason,” Jo says with a shrug. “We just know how well you get along with the guys from PG county.” 

“Oh, come on,” Dean argues. “There’s one guy from PG that I have a problem with, and you all have to admit he’s a dick.” 

“Oh, I know he’s a dick,” Jo says, raising a hand placating. “Trust me, I hate the slimy bastard just as much as you do. I’m just sayin’, we don’t need a repeat of last time and have Jody showin’ up.”

Cas turns a puzzled expression to Dean. 

“Who are you talking about?” He asks. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Just this guy, who comes down here every year. He graduated from high school two years ago, but he’s one of those losers who keeps coming back to senior week.”

“What happened last time he was here?” 

When Dean doesn’t answer, Ash pipes up. “Dean and Al brawled at some party, and got the cops called on them,” he grins. “It was pretty badass, actually.”

Cas frowns, not looking amused. “You fought him?” 

“He was being a prick,” Dean insists. “Wouldn’t leave me alone, and I warned him I’d hit him, and he didn’t listen. I won, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” 

Jo snorts, and Andy says, “Yeah, but he still cracked one of your ribs, didn’t he?” 

“Bruised one of my ribs,” Dean insists, and downs the rest of his drink. “He looked worse than me, though.” 

He doesn’t miss Cas’s disapproving look. 

When they’re all feeling significantly less than sober, they pack up all the alcohol into Jo’s backpack to take with them and straighten the room up. 

“If any of you leave anything incriminating in this room, I’ll kill you,” Dean warns. 

“Yeah, yeah, we know the drill,” Andy says with a dopey smile. His eyes are glazed and bloodshot, and Ash’s match. 

They lock up behind them and make for the bus stop. It’s almost eleven o’clock, and there are groups of teenagers everywhere - jaywalking, waiting for the bus, calling to one another across Coastal Highway. 

“Wow,” Cas says next to him as they walk. “There’s a lot of people.” 

“Welcome to senior week,” Ash says with a grin. 

Dean points to a group of kids running across the road. “Don’t be like them, okay, Cas? Cops take jaywalking even more seriously this week, and it’s an excuse to breathalyze you. So always take the crosswalk.”

Cas nods in understanding. 

The bus is full of people, and the five of them barely fit. It’s loud, too, most people drunk and jostling one another. 

Dean himself is feeling pretty good, and he’s more excited than he thought he would be to party. Yeah, he’s been to senior week parties before, but now that he’s one of the people who are supposed to be there, and he’s looking forward to not just feeling like a townie kid for once.

Glancing up, Dean realizes he’s grinning just as he meets eyes with Cas over the heads of some girls standing between them. Cas smiles back, and maybe he’s drunk but Dean swears Cas’s eyes look bluer than ever and he lips look soft and he feels his grin get wider. 

They all pile off the bus at sixth street, and follow Jo down a street on the bay side. It’s almost chilly out, the weather having been cooled down by the few days of rain that they had. It feels good on Dean’s warm cheeks, and maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought. 

“This is it,” Jo says as they approach a townhouse, and from outside the distant sounds of music and voices can be heard. 

The five of them go in, and the tiny house is loud and absolutely packed with people. There’s beer pong in one corner, dancing in the living room, and this party is for sure getting busted but Dean’s going to enjoy it until that happens. 

“Oh, this is perfect,” Jo calls over the noise with a grin. 

Ash and Andy go off looking for the source of the marijuana smell that hangs over the place, and Jo leads Dean and Cas to the kitchen. There are two guys in there, pouring a handle of cheap vodka into a huge jug. 

“Hey,” Jo calls. “I’m Jo. You got anything we can use as chasers?” 

The guys introduce themselves as Ed and Harry, and they explain that they poured all of their chasers into the jug of jungle juice but that they were welcome to have some. Once all three of them have cups of the red drink, they squeeze their way back through to the living room. 

“I’m gonna go see if there’s anyone here we know,” Jo calls into Dean’s ear, who nods at her before she slips off. 

Dean turns to Cas, who’s sipping his drink and looking around with wide eyes. 

“You okay?” Dean asks loudly, and Cas nods. “You wanna play pong?” 

“How?” Cas calls back. 

“It’s easy. C’mon.” 

Dean leads the way to the table, holding his drink above his head to avoid it getting spilled. 

“Hey,” Dean says to the people playing. “Anyone got next game yet?” 

“Nope,” says the girl closest to him. She’s slim, with long dark hair and tan skin. “You want it?” 

“Hell yeah,” Dean says. 

They watch the game, and Dean explains the rules to Cas as it finishes up. He nods along studiously, drinking his jungle juice with a look of concentration that Dean finds so charming it’s distracting. 

The dark-haired girl’s team wins, and Dean pulls Cas to the other end of the table to set up their cups. 

“Alright, since they won the last one, they go first,” Dean explains. “You ready to kick their ass?” Dean nudges at Cas with his elbow, shooting him a grin. 

The girl on the other team is good. She makes a lot more cups than her partner, that’s for sure, but Dean doesn’t worry much because he quickly finds out that Cas is _better_. When Cas makes his third cup in a row and gets the ball back, Dean just has to laugh. 

“Fuck, Cas!” 

Dean’s solo cup is empty and he has to admit, that jungle juice was strong. He can’t keep the grin off his face or his eyes off Cas, and their gazes meet just before Cas takes his shot and he falters, and misses. The girl makes her next one, and then both teams only have one cup left. 

On their turn, Dean hands the ball to Cas. 

“Here. Finish it, Cas,” he says into his ear. 

Cas nods, and takes the shot, and Dean hoots when the ball lands perfectly in the cup. There are cheers from a few people who were standing around and watching, but Cas only has attention for Dean, turning to beam at him. Cas’s face is absolutely lit up, his eyelids noticeably dropping with alcohol and fuck, Dean wants to kiss him so bad. 

“Hey!” A voice calls, and Dean turns to find the girl from the other team at his elbow. “Nice game, guys.” 

“Yeah, you too,” Dean says. 

“I’m Lisa,” she smiles, her teeth white in the dim room. 

“Dean,” he gestures over his shoulder. “And this is Cas.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, but she keeps her eyes on Dean. “I have to find my friend, but I’ll see you later, okay?”

She touches Dean’s bicep with a smile as she turns to go, letting her fingers trail over his arm as she walks away. 

Dean blinks, and shakes his head. 

“Let’s get another drink,” he says to Cas. 

An hour later, Dean is _drunk_. He’s guessing Cas is feeling the same way, because every time Dean looks at the guy he’s grinning. They win another game of beer pong, Cas spills a cup of jungle juice on the kitchen floor, and Dean has to be pulled down off the coffee table by Jo when people start cheering for him to do karaoke. 

“Listen up,” someone calls from the middle of the room - it’s Lisa, with a bottle of tequila in her hand, and her gaze on Dean. “Body shots, anyone?” 

People cheer, and the next thing Dean knows he’s being herded towards Lisa by who he assumes to be her friends. The crowd parts as he’s shuffled to the middle of the room until he’s standing before her. 

“I prob’ly shouldn’t take another shot,” he says into her ear. “‘M pretty trashed.” 

“No problem,” she says, and she grins. “I’ll take one off you.”

Dean glances around for his friends but doesn’t see them before he’s being told to take off his shirt. He tugs it over his head by the back of the collar, feeling his amulet bounce against his sternum. Bare chested, he’s lays back on the coffee table with his shirt in his hands, and Cas appears at the front of the crowd. Dean’s view of him is blocked, however, when Lisa comes up beside him. 

“Here,” she says, and holds out a slice of lime towards his lips. He takes it into his mouth, holding the rind between his teeth. Though he tries to glance around her, he can’t see Cas. 

There are whistles as Lisa bends to lick a strip across Dean’s chest, and Dean swallows. Her friend sprinkles salt over the spot and hands Lisa a shot glass full of tequila. 

“Ready?” Lisa asks Dean with a smirk, and he nods at her. 

Her hand splayed across Dean’s stomach, Lisa bends over him and licks the salt off his chest, slowly, while the people crowding around cheer. Dean watches her tongue, his head spinning with alcohol. She sits back on her heels, tosses the shot back with a grimace, and leans back in. Dean meets her in the middle with the lime between his lips, and when she wraps her mouth around it and sucks the juice out of it, the room erupts in catcalls and jeers and Dean meets Cas’s eyes over her shoulder. 

Rather than appearing jealous, or angry, which is what Dean was afraid of, Cas watches intensely with eyes dark with arousal. The look on his face as he watches has heat spiking low in Dean’s belly, but his view is blocked once again when Lisa leans back, laughing. 

Dean drops the lime from his mouth into his palm, leaving it on the coffee table and straightening up to put on his shirt. 

“You sure you don’t want a shot?” Lisa says. 

“I shouldn’t,” Dean calls back, and he smiles at her as he twists to step around her. “Maybe next time!” 

Lisa looks disappointed, but he turns away to find Cas in the crowd, who he lost in the few seconds it took to talk to her. 

“Dean!” Turning his head to follow the sound of his name, Dean finds Andy waving at him over the heads of some people. “Meet us out back!” 

“Where’s Cas?” Dean yells back. 

“He’s with Ash! Meet out back!” 

Squeezing through all the drunk teenagers, Dean follows Andy towards the back door. As soon as they’re outside on the stoop, the noise drops significantly. Dean lets his eyes adjust to the dark, and he blinks at the people sitting on the stair. 

There are a few guys Dean doesn’t recognize, but there’s also Andy, Ash, and Cas. 

“Hey,” Dean says, and settles on the step next to Cas. “I was lookin’ for you.” 

“We came out ‘for a smoke’,” Cas says, and Dean cracks a smile at how his matter-of-fact tone sounds when slightly slurred with alcohol. 

“Since when do you smoke cigs, Cas?” Dean teases. 

“I don’t.” 

Dean chuckles, and accepts a cigarette from Ash when he holds it out. 

“Since when do _you?_ ” Cas asks. 

Leaning into the lighter that Andy flicks on, Dean inhales until the end glows orange. He leans back, and exhales the smoke from the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t,” he says with a smirk. 

He takes a few more puffs and passes the cigarette to Cas, who doesn’t hesitate before taking it. 

“Is this like marijuana?” He asks, and Dean shakes his head. 

“It won’t get you high.” 

“Why do you do it?” 

Dean just shrugs. “For the hell of it.” 

Apparently accepting that answer, Cas puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales. Because he can’t help himself, Dean lets his eyes flick down to Cas’s mouth around the end of it. The two of them are oblivious to the conversation around them, regarding one another through the smoke that surrounds them on the step. They barely glance up when Jo comes outside to join them, plopping down next to Dean. 

Cas exhales with only a slight cough, and when he passes it back, Dean lets his fingers brush Cas’s and linger there. He doesn’t miss the discreet glance Cas casts around to the people around them, but Dean’s drunk and Cas looks so fucking beautiful sitting there, with cigarette smoke trailing from between their hands, and Dean doesn’t care if anyone sees him staring. 

Almost bashfully, Cas’s mouth lifts in a smile, and Dean feels himself echo it. Before he can stop himself, Dean leans in, careful to angle the glowing end of the cigarette away from both of them, and kisses Cas on the mouth. 

Though he makes a small, surprised noise, Cas kisses back. It’s brief, not much more than a peck, but when Dean pulls away he doesn’t go far. 

Cas blinks at him, eyes wide. “What about your friends?” He murmurs. 

Dean shrugs, grinning. “Fuck ‘em.” 

And he leans in again, sliding a hand around the back of Cas’s neck to pull him in for another kiss. He catches Cas’s laugh in his mouth as their lips meet, and feels Cas’s hand come to rest on the side of his jaw. 

Jo hoots in his ear and punches him in the arm, and he hears other catcalls from the people around them, but he just ignores it. 

He smiles against Cas’s mouth, and feels Cas grinning in return.


	8. senior week pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that there was such a long wait for this chapter... My semester just started again, so my schedule has been crazy. 
> 
> Also, I don't know why, but this bit gave me so much trouble - seriously, ask Charli, who was an absolute doll through all of this and was everything I needed to get me through. <3
> 
> Please accept this as my formal 15k word apology!
> 
> And as always, feedback keeps me going. ;)

To no one’s surprise, the party does eventually get busted. For the size that it was, it’s pretty impressive that the party lasted as long as it did, considering how strict the cops are during senior week. 

Luckily, however, all of them are still on the back steps when the cops come in the front, so they have more than enough warning to get the hell out of there. 

When the shouts of “Cops! Cops, everybody out!” start inside the house, they scatter. 

“Shit!” Jo exclaims as she jumps up from the step, but she looks more excited than anything. “Guys, let’s go!” 

“C’mon, Cas!” Dean leaps up, flicking away the cigarette he and Cas were sharing before grabbing Cas by the wrist and yanking him to his feet. “Time to go!” 

They run across the small backyard, and follow Ash and Andy and the others who were outside smoking as they make for the alley behind the row of townhouses. No one is discreet, everyone hollering and laughing as they run, and Dean looks to his left to see Cas grinning. 

In the alley, Ash and Andy veer right and Jo, Cas and Dean follow until they make it back to Coastal Highway. Once they hit the sidewalk, they pull up, all of them breathless with adrenaline despite the fact there was no one chasing them. 

“Woo!” Ash hollers, and he bends over his knees to catch his breath. “I think one of them almost caught me.” 

Jo punches him in the shoulder, hard, with a laugh. “You’re full of shit. They didn’t even see us.” 

“Yeah, it still felt scary,” Ash says, and Jo and Andy roll their eyes at him. 

“That was fun,” Cas says, and they all turn to look at him. His chest is still heaving, his hair is a disaster, but he’s grinning wide. Dean cracks up. 

“Yeah, you would think so,” Jo shakes her head, smiling. 

“Well,” Andy says with a clap of his hands. “Dairy Queen?” 

“Absolutely,” Dean says, along with a positive consensus from everyone else as well. 

Still happily intoxicated, the five of them catch the first bus they find going north and pile on, talking and joking amongst themselves. 

“I heard you two ran the pong tables for a while,” Jo says, gripping one of the handles that hangs from the ceiling and addressing Cas and Dean. 

“We won a few games, yeah,” Dean says. He jostles Cas with his elbow. “Cas carried the team, though. I think I only made like four cups all night.” 

“You made more than four,” Cas says with a speculative expression. “Certainly at least six.” 

And then he smirks, and Jo bursts out laughing. Shaking his head, Dean flips him the bird. 

“Okay, whatever, Cas,” he says, and he tries to sound serious but he can’t quite bite back his smile. “You can find a different partner next time.” 

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “I’d never trade you.” 

Dean feels his cheeks get warm. 

“You make me look good,” Cas adds matter-of-factly, and the others laugh again while Dean scoffs. 

“Yeah, fuck you, too,” Dean shoves at his chest playfully, and Cas stumbles backwards a step with a grin. 

Pursing his lips to hold back his smile, Dean looks away before he and Cas can stare at one another too long. There’s not much point in being discreet anymore, though, considering they freaking _made out_ in front of everyone. As much as Dean feels like he should be nervous about that, it really doesn’t seem like anything’s changed. His friends are acting just the same as they always do. Dean glances around at them all, as they joke and laugh with Cas, and he feels a rush of gratitude towards them. 

Jo does smirk at him, however, when Dean buys Cas’s ice cream along with his own. He blushes, and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t feel a nagging sense that he needs to worry. It’s a pleasant change. 

They hang out at Dairy Queen for well over an hour before they finally all decide it’s time to head home. 

“Do you just wanna walk?” Dean asks Cas. They’re only six blocks from the Bunker. Cas nods. 

They all agree to go out again later in the week before they say their goodbyes and part ways. Ash, Andy and Jo head back towards the bus stop to go south and Dean and Cas start walking the other way up the sidewalk. 

Dean nudges at Cas as they walk. “You have fun tonight?” 

“I did,” Cas nods with a smile. “I think I prefer alcohol over marijuana.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Me too.” 

At some point their hands bump and tangle together, and though he’s more sober than before, Dean still feels the pleasant hum of alcohol in his limbs. 

“Let’s go this way,” he murmurs, and steers Cas to the right through a parking lot. “Wanna walk on the beach?” 

“Okay,” Cas replies. 

They both kick off their shoes and socks as they make it to the path that leads to the beach, and they carry them to walk barefoot through the sand. Dean isn’t sure exactly what time it is but he knows it’s late, and while they pass a couple walking hand in hand going the other direction, they don’t see anyone else. 

When it’s just the two of them, Cas takes his hand again. 

“I really like spending time with you and your friends,” he says. 

“I’m glad.” Dean smiles as they walk. “I like having you with us.”

“And I think you’re a fine beer pong partner.” 

Dean laughs, and bumps Cas with his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

They walk quietly for a few minutes, the salty breeze ruffling their hair and the ocean crashing a ways to their right. Dean catches Cas glancing over his shoulder at the water. 

“Do you miss it?” Dean asks quietly. 

Cas turns with a confused expression, but it smooths in understanding when he sees Dean watching him.

“The ocean?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says. 

Cas hesitates for a moment, and then shrugs. 

They’ve reached the Bunker, but instead of heading up towards the motel the two of them settle in the sand right there on the beach, side by side. Dean digs his toes into it, leaning back on his palms. The sand is cool this time of night, and it feels good against his skin. The waves break several yards in front of them, almost hard to see through the dark except for the moonlight glinting on the tops of the swells, and the white foam washing up on the shore. 

“I miss swimming,” Cas finally says, and Dean watches the water as he listens. “I mean really swimming, for miles. I can travel a long way in a day.” 

“I guess being in the pool isn’t really the same, huh?” Dean says with a wry smile. Cas tips his head in an approximation of a shrug. “You can’t just go out there for a dip if you want to?” 

Cas shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. My family….” 

“What?” Dean turns to look at him. “They’d find you?” 

“They don’t need to find me,” he says bitterly. “They know exactly where I am.” 

Dean frowns. “How do you know that?” 

Cas glances at him, and takes a moment to respond. “We can… hear each other.” 

“Hear each other?” Dean can’t help but chuckle. “What, like, telepathically?” 

“Somewhat,” Cas says with a nod, and Dean’s eyebrows quirk in surprise.

“Wait, really?” 

“I can’t hear them when I have my legs. But when I’m in water, I do. I haven’t been responding.” 

Dean considers that a moment. “They’re telling you to come back?” 

Without looking at him, Cas shrugs. “Among other things.” 

“So, if you went in the ocean,” Dean says carefully. “They’d make you stay?” 

Finally, Cas turns to look at Dean. “As you remember, my brothers and sisters can create some very strong currents.” 

Castiel doesn’t say more, but Dean doesn’t need him to. He nods. 

“Right. I remember.” 

For a long moment, there’s no sound between them except for the crashing of the waves. They sit quietly, their shoulders brushing and their fingers overlapping between them as they lean back on their hands. Eventually, they lie back in the sand to watch the stars instead of the water and Dean slides his fingertips over the sensitive skin on the inside of Cas’s wrist. It makes Cas turn his head towards him, and they look at one another. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Dean murmurs. 

Cas’s eyes search his face, and there’s a soft sadness in them that makes Dean’s chest feel tight. Rolling to his side, Cas slides his hand up Dean’s neck to rest under his jaw. Gently, he brushes his thumb across Dean’s lower lip, his eyes following the movement before meeting Dean’s gaze. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Castiel whispers. 

Dean closes the space between them and kisses him, their lips pressing together firmly as they lie next to each other in the sand. Though he normally hates getting all sandy, especially when he’s fully clothed, Dean doesn’t mind it when he gets to feel Cas’s mouth moving against his own. 

Eventually, the two of them head inside. The truck isn’t outside the apartment, and Dean doesn’t bother thinking about John sitting at the bar at the Roadhouse. Sam’s still awake, which is surprising even though it’s Saturday. Though he says he just wasn’t tired yet, Dean thinks it’s more likely he was waiting for Dean and Cas to get home before going to bed. 

The three of them hang out in front of the TV until Sam and Cas fall asleep. Dean finally nudges both of them awake and they all shuffle down the hall together to their respective beds. 

“Night, Sammy,” Dean whispers, and he ruffles Sam’s hair at the kid’s bedroom door. 

“Night, guys,” he says back quietly. Sam doesn’t even blink when Cas follows Dean into his room. 

In bed, Dean listens to Cas breathe. The guy’s asleep almost immediately, his hand loosely tangled in the hem of Dean’s t-shirt. 

Dean thinks about the storm those weeks ago, that washed Cas into the pool. It was violent, and angry, and Dean wonders what could have made Cas’s siblings create something like that. He wonders why Cas won’t tell him. 

He drifts, and he thinks the regular in-and-out of Cas’s breaths in his ear sounds a lot like the crashing waves of the ocean. 

***

The next several days pass without too much fanfare. 

At Jo’s insistence, they plan on going to another party on Thursday. In the meantime, if none of them have to work, they spend a lot of time on the beach. The weather is beautiful, and the beach is crowded, and it’s getting into prime people-watching season. 

All of Dean’s friends know that he doesn’t go in the water, so they don’t nag him to join them when they go swimming. Luckily, they also don’t question it when Cas stays back, too, to “keep him company”. 

The two of them spend their time by the shore in those days lounging in the sand, Dean getting even more freckly and Cas getting sun-tanned. Sam joins them a few times, happy to be included in the older group’s plans, and Dean does his best not to worry when he goes swimming with the others. 

Dean finds that while there are many instances, very often, when he’ll look at Cas and have to do a double-take, his gaze getting caught on him, it’s on the beach where he finds Cas to be the most beautiful. Just thinking that makes him want to kick himself, it’s so sappy, but he lets himself stare. 

It seems that every time he glances at Cas as they hang out on the beach, Dean’s eyes catch on him. There are certain moments, snapshots in time, that stick in Dean’s memory the most. 

Cas leaning back on his palms as he peers out over the ocean, salty breeze ruffling his hair and a thoughtful expression on his face; stretched out languidly on his back in the sand, bronze-skinned and lazy; curled up on his stomach, face resting on his folded arms, eyelashes long and dark against his cheeks; the moment when his eyelids flutter open to look directly at Dean lying next to him, and his eyes are so blue they’re captivating. 

That moment is his favorite, and at the time Dean couldn’t help but reach out to him, needing to touch him, and just brushing his fingers against Cas’s elbow was enough. Dean couldn’t see his smile, Cas’s face still mostly tucked into his arms, but his eyes had crinkled in the corners. 

John hangs around during the week, working at the Bunker and doing odd jobs around the apartment. He takes notice of Cas hanging around, but doesn’t say much about it other than a stray comment about Dean still spending time with that “trailer park kid,” which Dean doesn’t have a response to. 

While he doesn’t care about John’s opinion of Cas and where he thinks he comes from, it does make Dean nervous to have Cas staying in his room with him at night. He figures Cas probably catches on because only two days after he spent time in room one he insists he’s feeling “a bit dry” and says he should spend the night in the bathtub - even though these days he usually lasts about four. Dean misses having him in his bed, but he’s grateful to not have to worry about John coming in and catching them. 

Just for a chance to swim, Cas stays in the pool Wednesday night while John’s at the Roadhouse. Dean hangs out with him, and has the courage to put his feet in the water again. He likes watching Cas move under the surface, tail shimmering, and he finds it easier than last time to dangle his feet over the edge. 

Dean works at Bobby’s a couple days, breaking down a few junkers for parts to sell and running errands for him. Cas always rides shotgun in one of Bobby’s trucks that they use to take some scraps to the dump, and Frazier usually sits between them on the bench. 

No surprise, Cas had been the one to ask Bobby if they could bring the dog the first time. While Dean had rolled his eyes and started to say something along the lines of, “No, Cas, the dog doesn’t need to come - ”, Bobby had interrupted him. 

“Sure, I don’t care. He’ll slobber all over you, but go right ahead.” Bobby had waved a dismissive hand, and Cas had turned an absolutely smug look towards Dean, who shook his head with an amused smile. 

Dean also gets a solid amount of work done on the Roadrunner, and it’s Thursday afternoon when he gets her to start for the first time. 

He hoots in excitement when the engine turns over, successfully stuttering to life. Cas and Frazier both startle and look over from where they’re sitting together on the ground.

“You hear that, Cas?” Dean exclaims, grinning in the driver’s seat. 

Cas clambers to his feet and comes to stand in the open doorway. 

“It works,” he says with a smile. “You got it to work.” 

“Work might be a bit of any overstatement, but she starts,” Dean says. “I’m not sure how far she’ll make it if I actually try and drive her.” 

“Still,” Cas says, “that’s quite an accomplishment, Dean.” 

With a shrug and almost bashful smile, Dean says, “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Cas leans into the open door and leaves a kiss in Dean’s hair, on the top of his head. Ridiculously, it makes Dean blush. 

“I’m proud of you,” Cas murmurs into his hairline. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean replies quietly, and with one more kiss to his temple, Cas pulls away. 

“So what’s next?” he asks. 

Dean puffs out his breath. 

“The exhaust needs replacing, that’s for sure. I’ll probably start there.” 

The party that Jo finds that night is on fourth street. It’s on the bay side, like the last one, but this one is hosted in a house that must’ve cost a fortune to rent out for the week. It’s small, but it has a big yard behind it with a detached garage by the back fence, a large patio - and a pool. 

“You didn’t say this was a pool party,” Dean says as he, Cas and Jo tromp around the side of the house to the gate into the backyard. Ash and Andy were planning on meeting them later on, but by the way Jo said they seemed when she left Andy’s house, they might have gotten too high and won’t make it. 

There are a good amount of people outside already. The door to the garage has been lifted open, and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminates a game of beer pong happening inside. There are people coming out from the house with cups, and people hanging out on the patio, and there are several of them splashing around in the pool. 

“I didn’t know,” Jo says with a shrug as they file through the gate. “All I heard was there was a keg, and that’s all that mattered to me.” 

Dean says nothing, and eyes the people in the pool warily as they make their way past. He’s hung out with Cas by the Bunker’s pool more than once now, but that’s just the two of them, and it’s quiet, and it’s not nearly as chaotic as this. This many people make him feel crowded near the pool.

Inside, they find that there are in fact two kegs, and the three of them fill up cups as high as they can. They pregamed a decent amount beforehand, but free alcohol is free alcohol. Dean downs three quarters of his beer before they even get back out to the patio. Cas must notice, because Dean meets his gaze to find him looking at him with his eyebrows quirked. 

Shrugging it off, Dean leads the way to the garage, leaving Jo, who stops to talk with some people she knows. He gives the pool a wide berth, and as they walk he nudges Cas to the outside of him, further from the water, to protect him from any splashing that might go their direction. 

“You wanna play pong?” Dean asks. 

“Sure,” Cas says, holding his beer to his chest to avoid anyone bumping it. “Are you planning on contributing to the team?” 

Dean shoots him a glare, but he can’t quite bite back the smile on his face. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” he says, and he jabs an elbow at Cas.

“Careful,” Cas admonishes, lifting his beer out of the way before it gets spilled. 

The two of them crowd around the table, nudging past people to get there, but when Dean asks who has the next game, one of the guys playing shakes his head at him. 

“Get in line, dude. There are like two teams ahead of you.” 

Turning to Cas, Dean shakes his head. “So much for that.” 

When Cas opens his mouth to reply, a voice over Dean’s shoulder cuts him off. 

“Hi, Dean.” 

Dean recognizes the voice immediately, and pivots. He clears his throat. 

“Hey, Cassie,” he says, and he can’t help but feel uncomfortable when she looks to Cas standing beside him. 

“Cas, right?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Cas says with a nod. He glances between her and Dean. “Hello again.” 

“Did you guys just get here?” Cassie asks politely. She also has a cup of beer in her hand, and someone who Dean recognizes as one of her friends hovering beside her. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says. “We were gonna play pong, but the line’s really long.” 

Someone screams from near the pool, and Dean whips his head around. The sound dissolves into a high-pitched laugh, and Cas touches him, just lightly, on his lower back. Steadying. Turning back, Dean sees Cassie’s eyes snap up from where they followed Cas’s hand. Though Dean shifts from one foot to the other, but doesn’t move away from Cas’s touch. 

“Um, well,” Cassie says, “there’s a game of Kings starting inside, if you guys wanna join? Tessa and I were just heading in.”

Tessa, right, that’s her friend’s name - Dean couldn’t remember for the life of him. He glances between the two girls, and then at Cas, who shrugs. 

“Um,” Dean says intelligently. “Yeah, okay.” 

Cassie smiles, and it’s warm and genuine and Dean feels a little caught off guard but he and Cas follow the girls back towards the house. 

They find Jo on the way, who’s on her second cup of beer and agrees enthusiastically when they invite her to join them. 

The kitchen table already has a handful of people sitting at it when they get back inside, and they all slot themselves in around it. Dean’s sure to tug Cas towards him by the hem of his shirt, discreetly, to get him in next to him. 

“I’ll explain the rules to you,” Dean says into his ear, raising his voice to be heard over the sounds of music and people talking, and Cas nods. 

The game starts, and Dean goes over the rules with Cas as they play, and it’s actually… not bad. Cas is on his left, and Cassie’s just a few people to his right, and Jo’s across the table, and as much as he expected this to be terribly uncomfortable, it’s really not. 

Cassie and Dean don’t interact too much, having a few people between them, but even her inviting them to play is a little strange to Dean. He wonders about her sudden desire to talk to him again - before that time they’d seen each other at the grocery store almost two weeks ago, they’d barely had a full conversation since their break-up. 

But right now, things between them don’t seem openly weird at least, and Dean’s grateful for that. 

Every time Jo draws a two from the deck and gets to pick the person who’s supposed to drink, she chooses Cas, and she thinks that’s hilarious. It’s when Dean finally starts to relax that he realizes he was tense ever since they got there. He finds himself smiling as Cas lifts his cup to his mouth with a roll of his eyes, _again_ , and he lets himself start to have fun. 

Cas draws a six from the deck, and holds it up for Dean to see. 

“A six,” he says. “What does that mean?”

“Six is chicks,” Dean replies. “All girls gotta drink.” 

His face lighting up, Cas points at Jo across the table with a “ _Ha!_ ” and everyone around the table laughs - until Cas goes to stick his card under the tab of the beer can in the middle of the table and it pops open with a fizzling _crack_. 

The people who are playing lose it, but none more so than Jo, who actually bends over laughing, her face bright red. Dean claps Cas hard on the back, laughing so hard himself that it takes him a few tries to get his words out. 

“Damn, Cas, that’s - that’s bad luck, man.”

Shaking his head, Cas turns to Dean with an incredulous look on his face that just makes Dean laugh harder. 

“So I have to drink that beer now?”

“Yeah, Cas, chug it!” Jo calls from across the table, and the guy to Cas’s left grabs the beer off the table, takes the cards out from under the tab, and hands it to him with an only partly sympathetic smile. 

Taking the beer, Cas throws Jo an unconvincing glare when she whistles at him and glances at Dean one last time. 

“Fuck,” Cas says, and he cracks the can the rest of the way open and tosses it back. 

The other players cheer for him as he drinks, and Dean finds himself grinning. He doesn’t know if it was how that curse word sounded coming out of Cas’s mouth, or the alcohol buzzing in his own body, or the way Cas’s throat works as he chugs, but Dean can’t take his eyes off of him, and he suddenly gets the inappropriate desire to lick off the beer that drips down Cas’s chin. Before he can act on his totally wrong-place wrong-time urges, Cas is slamming the empty can on the table with a belch, and people are reaching around Dean to slap Cas on the back. Based on the reaction of the other players, it’s as if Cas had just won the game, not lost. 

Cas swipes the back of his hand over his mouth and leans in close to Dean, opening his mouth to say something when he’s cut off by a voice that makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand straight up. His laughter dies in his throat.

“Well, what have we got happening here?” 

If Dean didn’t immediately know who it was just by the sound of the slimy, nasally voice coming from behind his shoulder, the way he sees Jo’s face darken from across the table sure confirms it. 

Cas turns in Dean’s peripheral vision, but Dean doesn’t right away. He meets eyes with Jo, who shakes her head at him in warning. As much as he would like to ignore him, which Jo is obviously trying to wordlessly tell Dean to do, the guy’s right behind him and Dean has nowhere to go. 

“Dean. Fancy seeing you here.”

Finally, Dean turns. 

“Alastair,” he says, and he packs as much contempt and disgust into his voice as he can. 

Alastair grins, and he looks Dean up and down, and he’s just as skin-crawly as Dean remembers. There’s another guy hovering behind him, someone Dean almost recognizes - his name is Ezra, or Azrael, or something else weird. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you,” Dean says. “This is, what, your third senior week? Can’t break the tradition, huh?” 

Dean feels himself bristling, his body tensing with intense dislike, and he knows Cas notices because he feels him step up close behind his shoulder. The other people around the table have quieted, and Dean can feel their gazes jumping from him to Alastair, the air practically crackling with tension between them. 

“What?” Alastair says, and he doesn’t lose his foul smile. “And miss my chance of seeing you?”

“Because you enjoyed getting your ass kicked so much the last time?” Dean knows that hits a nerve because Alastair’s face darkens, and while he still tries to keep up his cloyingly saccharine facade, his smile turns into more of a sneer. 

“Dean,” Cas murmurs lowly, but Dean ignores him. 

“That’s not exactly how I remember our last meeting,” Alastair snarls, and then Jo is there at Dean’s side and she tugs on his arm. 

“Leave it, Dean, let’s go.”

“Yeah?” Dean taunts, planting his feet so Jo can’t move him. “And what is it that you remember?”

“All I recall is being friendly, trying to get you to loosen up a little and go for a swim - not sure what was so wrong with that,” Alastair steps in closer, causing a murmur to go up around them. People start whispering about the possibility of a fight, and Jo steps between them. 

“Knock it off,” Jo hisses at Dean, but he continues to glare daggers at Alastair over her shoulder. He feels a hand close around his arm, and he’s positive it’s Cas. 

“I told you to leave me the fuck alone, and you didn’t,” Dean growls. “And then you got your ass beat - that seems like the part you’re forgetting. So fuck off.” 

The dig causes a soft jeer to erupt from the people standing around, the game of Kings completely forgotten, and Alastair’s lip curls. Dean’s practically trembling how, his hatred for the bastard rising up like a tidal wave. Jo shoves at his chest, cursing at him, and Cas’s fingers tighten around his bicep. 

“Dean, let’s leave,” Cas says from close behind him. He tugs on his arm, and that combined with Jo’s efforts from his other side get Dean backed up a few steps.

“I recall a few of your ribs cracking, that’s for sure,” Alastair calls over the heads of people that come between them as Cas and Jo usher Dean towards the door. “Have they healed since?”

“Yeah, they have, thanks for asking,” Dean spits back at him, and they’re nearly to the doorway now. “I see your face hasn’t.” 

Everyone goes nuts at that, hooting and shouting, but Dean only gets the satisfaction of seeing the absolutely murderous expression on Alastair’s face for a second before Jo and Cas shove him out the door and onto the patio. 

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Jo admonishes with a shake of her head. 

“Taunting him didn’t seem like a very wise idea,” Cas says, expression serious. 

“I don’t care,” Dean spits, and he means it. Fuming, he stalks down the steps of the porch and onto the pool deck, the other two following him. “Let’s just leave. I hate that slimy piece of shit, he’s a fucking - ”

The sliding door slams open with a crash behind them. The pane shatters as it smashes against the jamb, and Dean doesn’t whip his head around in time to see what’s happening when a heavy force pummels him from behind and he goes sprawling. 

There’s the sound of Jo and Cas both yelling his name but Dean barely registers it as he hits the ground hard and skids, his hands and knees catching his fall on the rough concrete of the pool deck. 

_Fuck_ , he thinks, the sting registering sharply, and instinct has him scrambling to get his feet under him before he even knows he’s doing it.

“I was just trying to be nice to you, Dean, and you run your mouth,” Alastair growls from where he stands over him.

Dean’s just getting upright when Alastair’s hands are on him, yanking him all the way to his feet. As he’s getting dragged up from the ground, Dean hears a scuffle from nearby, Jo cursing, and a grunt that he’s positive comes from Cas. Dean swings. 

As soon as his fist makes contact with the side of Alastair’s head, Dean knows he’s in for it. Yeah, he got a few good licks in the last time he fought this guy, but they were essentially evenly matched - he talked shit, but in reality it was pretty much luck that Dean had gotten away with _not_ having his ass handed to him. 

“Dean - ” comes Cas’s voice, but Dean only gets a glimpse of him lunging forward, Alastair’s crony - Azazel, that was his name - reaching an arm out to stop him, his other arm holding Jo back, before Alastair is in his face again and fuming. 

“I think you need to be taught some manners, now, Dean,” Alastair croons dangerously, and he comes back at Dean fiercely. 

Dean can only block so many of his shots, and he takes a sharp one to the jaw that snaps his head back before he gets in any more of his own. The punch that Dean lands, though, hits Alastair square in the face, his nose making a sickening cracking sound under his knuckles.  
Blood splurts down his face, and with an enraged bellow, Alastair charges forward and body slams Dean solidly in the chest, and they both go down hard. 

“Get - the fuck - off me - ” Dean grunts as he catches an elbow to the mouth, flooding his tongue with the taste of iron, as they wrestle on the cement. 

There are feet surrounding them by now, everyone crowded around to watch the fight, their shouts and cheers egging them on. 

“I think it’s about time you took that swim, huh, Dean?” Alastair taunts. 

Dean’s blood suddenly runs cold at the words, and he freezes. “What - no - ”

Alastair rolls them towards the pool, and Dean thrashes, but Alastair drags him to the edge and Dean’s suddenly overtaken with terror. Despite his efforts to dislodge Alastair from him, Dean only gets a weak elbow to his sternum as they struggle, his power diminished by his awkward position underneath him, and the next thing he knows he’s pinned to the ground with one of Alastair’s arms pressed heavily across his throat.

Alastair wouldn’t really throw him in the pool, would he? But they’re right up to the side of it, and Dean hears Cas call his name again, and Jo is shouting profanities, and Dean’s staring at the water and Alastair jabs a knee into his groin, hard. 

Groaning in pain, Dean tries to blink away the fireworks erupting in front of his vision as Alastair twists both fists in the front of Dean’s t-shirt. Dean is lifted half off the concrete, and through the pain that radiates all the way up to his teeth, real panic starts to set in. 

“Stop - ” Dean gasps. “ - let me go - ” He kicks out, hard, getting Alastair in the shin a couple times but not able to real his crotch, which is what he’s really aiming for. 

“What?” Alastair sneers into face, and Dean keeps his wide eyes trained on the water, coming closer. His heart pounds so loud he’s sure Alastair can hear it, and his lungs feel like they’re closing up. “Don’t want to mess up your hair?”

“Alastair, stop - _let me go_ \- ” 

Dean grips Alastair’s wrists, and as much as he tries to keep the fear out of his voice it comes through loud and clear on the last few words, and he feels Alastair pause. He turns his gaze to Alastair’s face and he must see the terror in Dean’s eyes, because a change comes over him. Instead of letting go of the front of Dean’s shirt and backing off, however, a wicked smile twists Alastair’s mouth. He shows his teeth, and he seems absolutely delighted at whatever newfound knowledge he just gained. 

“You’re _scared_ ,” he says, looking positively thrilled. He starts to laugh, and it’s low and nasty and makes Dean’s skin crawl. “Oh, we are _definitely_ going for a swim, now.” 

And he tightens his grip in Dean’s shirt and hauls him half off the ground and towards the edge, and Dean absolutely panics. He kicks, and flails, but the terror is clouding his mind and making his muscles feel frozen and if Alastair throws him in this pool, he’s going to drown and die. 

“Let me go, _get off_ \- stop, _STOP_ \- !” Dean doesn’t even know what he’s shouting anymore, he’s just yelling until his throat feels raw and he’s halfway over the edge and he’s clutching at Alastair with one hand and the cement with the other, anything he can do to keep himself from going over. 

Then, a moment where several things happen at once. Alastair gives one last heave, and Dean feels the ground disappear from under him, and he scrambles; there’s a cry of pain, loud, right in his ear, which he’s pretty certain doesn’t come from himself; the hands in his shirt disappear, but new ones grab at his shoulders hard; his own hands flail out and make contact with the edge of the pool and he clings for his life; there’s a splash, and his legs are suddenly soaked, water seeping into his jeans. 

“Dean - ”

Frantically, Dean scrambles. He’s managed to catch himself on the ledge by his arms, his legs hanging down into the water where they kick and splash. He hoists himself up and out until he’s facedown on the cement, with the help of the pair of hands clinging to his shoulders. 

“Dean - are you alright - ” Cas’s voice, close and loud. Dean tries to nod but guesses he doesn’t quite manage it because Cas asks him again as he’s pushing himself up to a sitting position. 

And then Jo is there, and her eyes are wild and she’s saying “We gotta go, come on, Dean you gotta get up,” and it’s only then that Dean registers the sound of the sirens. People are scattering, flooding through the gate and hopping the fence to get out, and Dean works on catching his breath. 

Cas is bumped hard from the side, causing him to stumble as he’s pulling Dean to his feet, and Azazel rushes past them to the edge of the pool. Dean catches a glimpse of his eye already starting to swell, and blood at the corner of his mouth. 

Alastair is in the deep end, soaking wet and looking absolutely pissed, yelling things at the three of them as Azazel tries to desperately beckon him out of the pool. 

Dean only hears general curses and threats from Alastair as Jo and Cas drag him off the ground and they all make for the gate, leaving Alastair and Azazel behind. 

Even around the side of the house, the flashing blue and red lights from what seems to be several cop cars reflects across the canopies of the trees. 

They slip through the gate and as Dean looks over his shoulder he recognizes the silhouette of one Sheriff Jody Mills, illuminated by the headlights of her cop car, right before the three of them take off. Though he’s no longer afraid of Jody, Dean’s still scared shitless of what John would do if she drove him home in the back of her car for being drunk, at a party, and fighting. The last time this happened, Jody swore it’d be only one more before she called his dad. 

Sprinting through the backyards of the nearby houses, Dean hear Jo cursing in front of him, and he picks up a couple words - “ _men_ ” and “ _fucking stupid_ ,” and he gets the idea. Beside him, Cas runs close, their elbows knocking. 

There’s no hollering, no laughing, as everyone flees from the house. It’s not like the last party, when even though it got busted it was fun to run away, the adrenaline making them feel invincible. This time, Dean’s heart is in his throat and his breathing comes ragged, and he feels afraid. He doesn’t know if it was Alastair or the close call with the pool, but he’s unsettled, his stomach acting up all the way to ninth street, where they finally slow to a walk. 

Jo rounds on him immediately. 

“What the hell, Dean!” She exclaims, breathing heavy, and she shoves him in his chest.

“Hey,” Cas says sharply, and he steps half in front of Dean with a scowl.

Dean says nothing, feeling trembly and not trusting his voice. He’s hyper aware of his wet jeans sticking to his legs. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you, you know that?” Jo ignores Cas and keeps yelling. “You stupid asshole, I swear - ”

“That’s enough,” Cas says, and this time his voice is just commanding enough to get Jo to back down with a shake of her head. Cas turns to him. “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean nods, scraping his fingers over his ribs. Cas’s eyes jump to the movement. 

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Yeah, I’m - I’m fine.” 

“You’re bleeding,” Cas says, and he reaches for Dean’s chin - he must’ve scraped it the first time he went down. Dean pushes his hand away before Cas can touch him. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, and Cas frowns. 

“You should’ve just ignored him, Dean,” Jo says. She’s still pissed, but at least she’s stopped yelling. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Dean responds. “Too late now.” 

“You’re damn right about that,” Jo says with a roll of her eyes. “I swear, Dean, you can’t fuck around with that guy, it’s a fucking stupid, stupid thing to - ”

“ _Jo_ ,” Dean holds out both hands to cut her off when he can’t take it anymore, his nerves wracked up high enough and feeling like he could snap. “Please, stop. I can’t - ” He swallows. “I just, I can’t deal with that right now.”

It’s true, and Dean drops his hands before either of them notices them shaking. Jo must know he’s serious, though, because after staring at Dean for a long moment she finally relents, blowing her breath out through her nose.

“Fine,” she says. “Fine.” She looks around, down Coastal Highway at the sparse traffic. “Let’s just - find a bus.” 

The three of them flag down a northbound bus and clamber on. They find three seats together, and Dean sits between them. 

In the bright lights, Dean notices for the first time that Jo has a red mark on her jaw that looks like it’ll bruise by morning. Stomach twisting, he looks away. 

Dean knows Jo’s tough, and she’s been in her fair share of her own fights, but it doesn’t keep him from feeling guilty. And on top of all the other anxious emotions in his chest, it has Dean jabbing a thumb between his ribs, hard. 

Fifteen minutes later, they pull up at 23rd street, where Jo needs to get off to walk to Andy’s. 

“You guys gettin’ off here, too?” Jo asks quietly. 

Cas looks to Dean, who shakes his head. He doesn’t feel like walking. That, and he thinks the sound of the ocean right now would not do anything to help settle him. He just wants to get out of these wet jeans and crawl in bed. 

“Okay,” Jo says, and she stands. As the bus comes to a stop, she looks down at Dean and her expression softens. “I’ll call you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Dean nods. Just before she goes, Jo reaches out and touches Dean on the cheek, only lightly. It makes him think of her mom. 

For the rest of the ride back to the Bunker, Dean lets Cas hold his hand. He sees him glancing at him more than once out of the corner of his eye, that worried frown across his brow, but Dean doesn’t have the energy to say anything. He feels drained. 

When they finally get back, Dean fumbles with the keys to the apartment enough times that Cas takes over, sliding his hand over Dean’s and taking them from him. 

It’s dark inside, and Dean doesn’t remember if he saw John’s truck parked outside but his door is wide open and his room is empty. Hopefully he waited for Sam to fall asleep before he left. Dean has no idea what time it is. 

After peeking in Sam’s door to see the kid curled up and quiet under his covers, Dean finally shuffles to his own room, Cas following. 

“Would you like me to stay in room one?” Cas whispers, and Dean shakes his head through the dark, pulling off his wet jeans and throwing them aside. 

“Alright,” Cas says. He stands in the middle of the room, awkward. When Dean comes past on his way to the bed, Cas catches his wrist. 

“Dean.” 

Dean turns to face him, and Cas scrutinizes him. That damn concerned crease between his eyebrows. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Fine,” Dean says. His stomach twists and clenches, and he feels like all of his muscles are strung too tight. 

“Let me heal your chin,” Cas says, and reaches for Dean’s face. 

Jerking his head out of reach, Dean steps away so his wrist falls from Cas’s grip. 

“No. It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” 

Cas’s frown deepens, and Dean looks away. He climbs into bed. 

After a moment, Cas takes off his own jeans and joins him. Their skin brushes under the blankets, and Dean resists the urge to pull away. As much as he wants Cas’s touch, as much as it physically hurts to lie beside him and not reach for him, Dean feels agitated and precarious and he keeps himself carefully separate. 

They lie next to each other, breathing in opposite rhythms, and though Dean usually finds comfort in the sound he can’t seem to keep his mind focused on anything. 

Instead, he keeps getting flashes of sensation that he can’t get out of his head - being dragged towards the pool, the water coming closer. Feeling himself tipping over the edge. The moment the ground dropped out from under him, and the splash of Alastair hitting the water that at the time Dean was convinced was from himself going under. 

Thinking back, Dean realizes Cas must’ve hit Alastair, must’ve pushed him in to keep Dean from being the one with that fate. Dean wants to say something to him about it, but he doesn’t. 

He focuses on the heat radiating from Cas’s body next to his, so close but not touching, for what feels like hours. It’s a long time before Cas falls asleep, his breathing evening out, but Dean lies there for twice, three times as long. 

Finally, he drifts. 

***

 _Dean can’t breathe._

He swallows mouthful after mouthful of salt water, every time he tries to scream. The surface remains out of reach no matter how much he flails, the ocean all around him, dragging at his clothes and pulling him down by the ankles. Each time he inhales, his lungs fill with sea water, and his chest is lead-heavy and he feels himself sinking. His throat burns, from the salt or the panic or the attempts to scream he doesn’t know, but every time he tries to make a sound nothing comes out. 

He begins to feel exhausted, and his thrashing slows, and it’s only then that he starts to feel like he’s not alone. Though his chest seizes in terror, he can’t help but feel like he expected this, was waiting for it, in the back of his mind. He knew it would come. 

There’s a hand on his wrist, and it says his name, which it’s never done before. When did it learn his name? 

He panics. He can’t get away. 

“Dean,” it says again, this time clear as a bell and right in his ear, and it sounds afraid. What did it have to be afraid of? 

There’s water in Dean’s lungs and he’s going to die. His eyes sting as he strains to see towards the surface, towards the light, but the light is coming from everywhere and he doesn’t know which way is up and he is drowning. 

“ _Dean_.”

It’s looking right at him with those giant eyeballs, and they’re even more blue than the ocean, and Dean lies flat on his back gasping for a long time before he realizes he’s awake.

Cas blinks down at him, his eyebrows drawn together sharply in the middle, looking freaked out. Dean sees his own hand, knuckles stark white, clutching the front of Cas’s shirt, and Cas has a hand around his wrist. 

“Dean,” he says. “You were having a nightmare. Breathe.”

He can’t. His lungs are full of the ocean and breathing is not happening right now. 

“Fuck,” Dean gasps. He pulls away from Cas, scrambling to sit up and swing his legs around to get his feet on the floor. “Fuck.”

Trembling so hard his teeth rattle, Dean fumbles to stand but can’t, and Cas puts a hand on his back and he flinches away violently. Fuck, this is exactly what he _didn’t_ want Cas to have to see. 

“Dean, are you - ”

His stomach is so tight he might throw up. Dean clutches at his sides, digging his fingertips in as hard as he can with both hands but it doesn’t help. 

“Oh, god,” he moans, and the next thing he knows he’s bent in half over his knees with both arms wrapped tightly around his middle, squeezing. Each breath he tries to drag in just saws through him, and he makes a pathetic wheezing noise on each inhale and he’s starting to get light headed and he needs to _breathe_ \- 

“I’m gonna die,” Dean whimpers, and he meets Cas’s eyes, who at some point had come over to kneel in front of him in the middle of the room, and Dean doesn’t even know how he got all the way over here but there are books strewn around him as if he had knocked into the nightstand - “I’m gonna drown, I’m gonna die - ”

“No, you’re okay, look at me - ”

Cas reaches for him but Dean recoils, no, he can handle this, he’s got it, he’s just gotta -

And he twists, lunging for the trash can in the corner and he retches into it. Though he expects gallons and gallons of saltwater to come up, so much that it overflows the bin and floods the room, all that he vomits is bile. His frame is wracked with tremors as he heaves, and fuck, he hasn’t had one of these this bad in a long time, this one is definitely going to kill him - 

There’s a hand on the back of his neck and fingers in his hair as he’s bent over on his knees on the carpet, and Castiel is going to have to watch him die like this. He hears Cas murmuring softly behind him but can’t make out the words over his own loud attempts to draw in air and the thundering sound of his heartbeat in his ears and then suddenly things starts to quiet. 

For a moment Dean thinks this is it, that he’s losing consciousness, until he registers the warmth on the back of his neck. It’s coming from Cas, from his hands, and it makes Dean feel like he might be settling. He spits, and shoves the trashcan away so he can turn, and Cas leans back to let him. 

Cas looks worried as shit and it makes Dean feel guilty, in some corner of his mind not crowded by terror and dread. 

“Let me,” Cas murmurs, and reaches for Dean’s face. “Please, let me help.” 

“Cas, don’t - ” Dean tries to push his hands away but Cas is insistent, and Dean is only just starting to feel solid again and his own hands are shaking too much to be any use. “I’m okay, I can - ”

But Cas gets his hands on either side of Dean’s neck, sliding them around so he’s almost cradling Dean’s head between them, and he’s impossibly gentle. The warmth comes again, and the dull glow, and Dean lets his eyes fall closed because it’s easier than looking at the soft, desperate expression Cas wears on his face. 

“Shh,” Cas murmurs, and Dean feels the fight leak out of him. 

Finally, his chest loosens, and though Dean still pulls in air a little too fast, his lungs open and slowly seem to work again. Dean holds onto Cas’s forearms and he quiets, the tension slowly easing away with the light from Cas’s hands. 

They kneel there in front of one another on the bedroom floor, the room dark but for the dull radiance coming from Cas, which just outshines the neon sign outside the window. One of Cas’s hands brushes up over Dean’s forehead and through his hair, his fingers light, while the thumb of his other hand brushes a tender path back and forth across Dean’s jaw. 

“You’re okay,” Cas whispers, and Dean opens his eyes as Cas leans forward to press his lips to his forehead. They’re warm, too. 

Dean swallows, his heart slowing and his stomach finally unravelling. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and his face heats. “I’m - I’m sorry.” 

Cas sits back on his heels with a frown. 

“No,” Cas says, and Dean feels like he can’t meet his gaze, shame keeping his eyes on the carpet. “Come with me,” Cas murmurs, and he tugs Dean towards the bed. 

No more resistance left in him, Dean follows, allowing himself to be led back to the mattress. He crawls on, sluggishly, and he feels heavy when he settles again on his back. 

Silently, Dean watches Cas follow him into bed. He doesn’t lie down, instead kneeling next to Dean and sliding a hand over his hip. 

“Why don’t you let me help you?” Cas whispers, and Dean can’t answer. “I don’t like to see you hurting.” 

Dean shuts his eyes, but Cas catches him with a hand on his cheek before he can turn his face away. His fingertips trail across Dean’s cheekbone and Dean lets it happen. Cas brushes over his eyebrow with one finger, down his nose. When he reaches his mouth, Dean lets his lips part as Cas’s finger catches on the lower one. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers again, and opens his eyes to Cas gazing down at him, his mouth set sorrowfully. 

Cas leans over him, and kisses him on the mouth. 

Kissing back, Dean keeps his arms by his sides. 

“Let me,” Castiel murmurs against his lips. 

His hand cups beneath Dean’s jaw, and Dean feels the heat, the backsides of his eyelids glowing red-orange from the light as Cas heals his chin where it had scabbed over, rough and itchy. Dean lets him. 

After the warmth subsides Cas’s hands travel, until Dean feels one sliding over his hip again, under the hem of his t-shirt. 

Taking the bottom of his t-shirt in both hands, Cas rucks it up until Dean gets the hint and helps him drag it up and over his head. Settled against the pillows in nothing but his sweatpants, Dean watches Cas silently. He lets his knees fall open, giving Cas room to kneel between them as he comes to hover over him with a hand on the mattress on either side of Dean’s torso. 

Dean breathes. 

Cas surveys Dean beneath him, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest. He brings a hand up to skim his palm across Dean’s collarbone, and then down. A thumb catches on one of Dean’s nipples, making him twitch, and while Cas’s eyes flick to his face for a split second, he moves on. Cas’s hand smooths down Dean’s sternum and then over his ribcage, and while he tenses, Dean doesn’t pull away. He feels Cas’s fingertips skim over his ribs on the left side, and Dean know he’s looking at his bruises. 

“Let me,” Cas says again, and when he glances up to check for permission, Dean swallows and nods. 

Ducking his head, Cas lays a kiss on Dean’s pectoral muscle. His lips are dry and the kiss is firm, and then he moves downwards. 

Dean lets him.

He doesn’t like anyone touching him around his ribs, let alone give him this much attention, but Dean tries to keep the tension out of his shoulders and abdominal muscles. He tries to relax, because Cas is asking him to. He only flinches a little when Cas presses his mouth to Dean’s skin, right over one of the small, fingertip-shaped bruises that are scattered over his ribs. His breath hitches softly, but he forces himself to be still. 

But as Dean watches, his eyes trained on Cas’s mouth, he gasps. 

That soft light glows from between Cas’s lips, and the open-mouthed kiss he lays on Dean radiates warmth and before his eyes, the bruise heals. 

Dean feels cracked open, he feels warmed from the inside out, as Cas continues his ministrations. He’s so gentle with him it almost hurts, deeply in a way that lodges Dean’s heart in his throat and makes the backs of his eyes sting. Breath hitching with some overwhelming feeling he can’t name, Dean just watches wordlessly as Cas leaves these kisses across his ribcage, healing his bruises in their wake. 

“Cas,” Dean says when he can’t take it anymore, and his voice is raw and he barely recognizes it, but this is all too much and he blinks to dispel the moisture in his eyes. “Cas, come here.” 

He gets a hand under Cas’s jaw and tips his head up to meet his eyes. 

“Come here,” he whispers again, so Cas does. 

He crawls up Dean’s body, and when their faces are level they peer at each other for a long moment. Slowly, Dean slides a hand around the back of Cas’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Cas kisses him back tenderly.

Opening his mouth, Dean invites him in, and their tongues slide together. Dean doesn’t miss the warmth that emits from Cas’s hand, splayed wide across his ribs, as he heals the few bruises that were left. 

Dragging both hands up the back of Cas’s head, Dean gets his fingers in his thick hair just as Cas pulls away, breaking the kiss. 

“Tell me what you need,” Cas whispers, and they’re breathing each other’s air, heavily. 

“I don’t need anything,” Dean murmurs back, and tries to catch Cas’s mouth again but he stays out of reach. 

“Please,” Castiel says, looking Dean in the eye.

“I need you,” Dean says, and it’s the most true thing he’s said all night. He lets his hands skim down Cas’s neck and over his shoulders, and this time when Dean tries to recapture Cas’s lips, Cas meets him in the middle, and they kiss with new ardor. 

Skimming a hand down Cas’s side, Dean slides it around to his lower back and pulls him in until they’re flush, chest to hips. Cas comes willingly, pressing himself down into Dean, and he licks his way into Dean’s mouth. 

Underneath Castiel’s warm weight, with the feeling of his hands on his bare torso and their tongues twisting together, Dean’s all but forgotten how he felt like he was drowning only minutes before. Now, all there is is Cas, inundating every one of his senses. Cas’s hands, his mouth, his shoulders. The pressure of his hip bones as they press into the inside of Dean’s thighs when Dean lets his legs fall open, Cas settling between them. The curve of his ass, Dean sliding both hands over it and squeezing. His dick, which Dean can feel hardening against his own through his sweats and Cas’s boxers. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes as Cas kisses along the tendon of his neck, sucking as he gets to the base. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if it leaves a mark, and the thought has his skin feeling hot. Cas makes a noise of acknowledgement in his throat but doesn’t stop, and Dean tugs at his shirt. “Take this off.” 

Cas pulls away to yank the shirt over his head and toss it away indiscriminately, and when he turns back to Dean, he pauses. 

“What?” Dean says, breathing heavy, and Cas takes in the sight of him. 

“Look at you,” Cas murmurs, and he bends over Dean to smooth a palm along his chest, apparently captivated by the flush he has across his skin. “You’re blushing.” 

And that, of course, makes Dean blush harder. 

“Beautiful,” Cas says soberly, and Dean rolls his eyes to hide his embarrassment. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Come back down here.” 

Cas does as he’s told, and they kiss. When Cas’s fingertips graze again over one of Dean’s nipples, Dean gasps into his mouth before he can stop himself. Intrigued, Cas pauses before doing it again, and Dean nips at his lower lip and at the same time can’t help but flex his hips up into Cas’s in response. Cas makes a pleasantly surprised noise in his chest.

Through the fabric between them, Dean can feel Cas getting harder, and he deliberately grinds up into him again. Jesus, Cas is responsive, and Dean himself is almost fully hard when Cas flexes his pelvis down in return. 

“Dean,” Cas gasps into the corner of Dean’s mouth, and his voice sounds strained as they rut against one another. 

“Does that feel good?” Dean whispers, using his two handfuls of Cas’s ass to pull him down to meet the thrusts of his hips. Cas can only nod in response. They work up a rhythm, Cas dropping his forehead down to rest against Dean’s, and Dean can feel the muscles in Cas’s back and ass flexing under his hands and it’s not enough. 

Dean slides a hand around and gets it between them, reaching to palm at Cas’s dick through his boxers. Letting out a stuttering gasp, Cas pulls his head back to look down at Dean with wide eyes. 

“Is this okay?” Dean asks, stroking the long, hard line of him. He can’t keep himself from grinding his own dick, trapped in his sweats, up against Cas’s hip as he does so. 

“Yes,” Cas gasps, his hips twitching into Dean’s hand. Dean sees his throat bob as he swallows. “Dean, can I - ”

He props himself up on an elbow and tugs hesitantly at the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants. 

“Yeah,” Dean croaks, getting the message. “Yeah, take them off.” 

With Cas’s help, Dean shoves his pants down off his hips, freeing his now fully hard cock in the process. Cas sits back on his heels to untangle them from around Dean’s ankles and tosses the sweatpants to the floor along with their shirts. 

With that, Dean is fully naked, lying flat on his back and breathing hard. He’s uncomfortably aware of the hot flush creeping up his neck from his chest, and the way his dick curves up towards his belly, and Cas just sits over him and looks at him. 

“Quit lookin’ at me,” Dean says, his eyes jumping away from Cas’s face and his intense gaze. 

“I can’t help it,” Cas murmurs, and Dean flicks his eyes back to him when he feels Cas’s hands on his ankles. Cas slides his palms slowly up Dean’s legs. He smooths them up his calves, reverently, as if Dean were something worth intent study. His thumbs come to rest under Dean’s kneecaps for a moment, and then he continues up his thighs. Skin absolutely burning, it’s all Dean can do to keep from fidgeting under Cas’s attention. 

“Your legs,” Cas murmurs, and his head tips just slightly to the side, “they’re curved. Mine don’t look like this.” 

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice cracks. “I’ve got bowlegs.” 

“Bowlegs,” Cas repeats, and he looks intrigued, his eyebrows creasing just a little in the middle. “I like them.” 

Dean scoffs, not knowing how to respond. “Whatever. Can you please come back down here?” He tugs at Cas’s wrist. “You’re killing me, man.” 

Finally, Castiel raises his eyes to Dean’s cock, which hasn’t softened at all despite the lack of attention. He suddenly looks a little nervous, for the first time. Dean sees him swallow. 

“Dean, I’m - I’m a bit… unfamiliar with the anatomy, here,” he stutters, and ridiculously, it makes Dean laugh. 

“I know,” he reassures, biting back a grin. “It’s okay. Come here.” 

Cas crawls up Dean’s body, and as Dean stretches up to kiss him he slides an arm around Cas’s waist and gently rolls him, until Cas is on his back and their positions are reversed. They kiss softly, tongues meeting briefly, as Dean settles over him. Dean tangles a hand in Cas’s boxers at his hip, pausing as if in question, and Cas gets the idea and starts pushing them down. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Dean tugs his boxers down, Cas’s dick springing free as he does. He tosses them aside and curves back over to kiss him again. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Dean whispers against Cas’s lips. When he nods, Dean wraps a hand around Cas’s cock. 

Cas gasps, his body curving towards Dean, and when Dean pulls back an inch to look at him, it’s to see Cas with wide eyes. 

“This okay?” Dean murmurs as he starts to stroke him, and Cas can only nod, apparently unable to speak. 

Leaning over him, Dean presses his lips to Cas’s warm shoulder. He twists his wrist on the upstroke, and he hears Cas’s breath hitch in his ear. He clutches at Dean’s sides. 

“Hang on,” Dean whispers into Cas’s neck, and he doesn’t miss the disappointed noise Cas makes in his throat as he pulls away. 

Reaching over the side of the bed, Dean braces himself to keep from falling while he yanks open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Rifling through its contents, he feels around until his hand closes around a bottle. Not bothering to close the drawer, he shuffles back to Cas with the lotion. 

“This’ll feel even better,” he whispers, and squirts a dollop into his palm. Tossing the bottle up by Cas’s head, he leans back over. With an elbow braced on the pillow beside Cas, Dean pecks him on the lips once. “Still okay?” 

“Yes,” Cas breathes. 

Dean watches Cas’s face as he takes him into his hand again, and man, is he rewarded. Biting back a smile, Dean focuses on the soft ‘o’ Cas’s mouth makes as Dean jerks him. With the lotion slicking his way, Dean tightens his fist just under the head of Cas’s cock on every stroke, and he watches how it makes Cas’s forehead crease between his eyebrows. 

“Dean,” Cas gasps as he clutches at Dean’s back, and hearing his name in that throaty voice makes Dean’s own dick twitch between his legs. Meeting his eyes, Dean sees the desperate expression on Cas’s face and he bends in to kiss him, open-mouthed. 

He twists his tongue around Cas’s at the same time he twists his wrist, and he doesn’t even notice that Cas’s hands have left him until he hears the cap of the lotion snapping open. Cas breaks the kiss. 

“Can I - ” Castiel whispers, indicating the lotion as he squeezes a bit out into his hand. 

“Yeah,” Dean croaks with a nod, and he swallows. His own hand slows on Cas’s cock as he watches Cas slick up his palm before reaching down. Dean pulls in his breath sharply as Cas wraps his long fingers around the base of his dick, and he nods in encouragement when Cas flicks his gaze up to his face. “Yeah, Cas, like that.” 

With his tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth in that way he does when he’s concentrating, Cas strokes upward, slowly. Dean’s eyelids flutter and he bites back a groan. Following Dean’s lead, Cas does as he does, tightening his grip on the upstroke, and it makes heat spike in Dean’s belly. 

They both work up a rhythm, jerking each other fast and gasping each other’s air. Dean can’t help but meet the movement of Cas’s hand with little thrusts of his hips, fucking into the circle of his fist. He can tell when Cas starts to gain some confidence because he begins changing things up a bit, altering the twists of his wrist and swiping a thumb through the precome beading at the tip of Dean’s cock. 

“Fuck, Cas, that feels good,” Dean breathes, and he bites down hard on his lip, his forehead creasing in the middle, and Cas quickens the pace of his hand. “Oh, fuck.” 

Dean leans in to kiss him, and both their mouths are wide and desperate for one another and he can feel Cas tensing below him, getting close. Cas doesn’t make a sound but he’s canting his hips up into Dean’s hand in erratic thrusts. When Dean can’t even concentrate on kissing him anymore, he drops his face into Cas’s neck, where he just gasps, mouth open against his collarbone. 

The muscles of Cas’s stomach tighten against Dean’s knuckles on each stroke and he thinks Cas’ll probably come any second before he gets an idea. 

Cas makes a desperate sound as Dean pulls out of his reach to slide down his body, and Dean gives a warning squeeze to Cas’s thigh as he leaves wet kisses down his torso. 

“Shh,” he whispers into Cas’s hipbone. “You’ll wake Sammy.” 

And before he can chicken out, his stomach twisting only distantly with nerves, Dean gives Cas two more strokes with his hand before he takes him into his mouth. 

The strangled gasp that Cas makes and the way his hands fly to Dean’s hair has Dean resisting the urge to reach down and palm at his own currently neglected dick. Cas tastes like salt and skin and only faintly like dry unscented lotion, and Dean’s never done this for a guy before but he can imagine what he would think would feel good so he takes Cas as deep as he can and swirls his tongue on the underside of his cock. Cas’s fingers grip almost painfully in Dean’s hair and he gasps out “ _Dean_ ” in a choked voice and Jesus, Dean’s so hard it hurts. 

It’s obvious Cas is having a hard time containing himself, his hips jerking beneath Dean’s hands, and Dean has to pull off an inch or so when Cas’s cock hits the back of his throat and he almost chokes. He recovers, though, and sinks down as far as his gag reflex will let him, swirling his tongue and sucking hard, and he looks up at Cas’s face through his lashes. Castiel is staring down at him with his eyes wide and mouth open, and as soon as they make eye contact Cas’s fingernails scrape Dean’s scalp as his hands tighten in his hair and he comes. 

Choking just a little as Cas’s salty release pulses over the back of his tongue, Dean swallows around his softening cock. He drags his lips up the shaft once, twice more, making Cas shiver with a gasp, before he finally pulls off with a wet sound. 

“Dean,” Cas pants, his fingers raking through Dean’s hair and his chest heaving. “Dean.” 

“Yeah,” Dean croaks, reaching for his own leaking dick. 

“Dean, come here,” Cas says, and he grabs at Dean’s shoulder, trying to tug him back up the bed. “Come here.” 

“Cas, I gotta come,” Dean says, pulling on his dick with his head hanging down between his shoulders, forehead pressed into Cas’s hip. “I gotta - ” 

“Dean, _come here_.” 

Castiel wraps a hand around Dean’s bicep and tugs hard, and Dean finally crawls back up his body, still jerking himself. With a hand around the back of his neck, Cas pulls Dean down into a kiss but Dean can hardly concentrate on kissing back, he’s so turned on and ready to come. 

“Let me,” Castiel breaks the kiss to say, and he pushes Dean’s hand away and wraps his own fingers around his dick again, and Dean lets him. 

He only gives Dean’s dick a few strokes before taking his hand away, and Dean makes a desperate, needy noise that sounds pathetic to his ears but he doesn’t even care, and Cas shushes him. Grabbing the lotion again, Cas squirts a fair amount into his palm and when he takes Dean’s cock back into his hand it’s slick and tight and fast and perfect and Dean groans. 

The noise is cut off when Cas abruptly slides an arm around Dean’s waist and, without pausing the steady strokes with his hand, flips the both of them on the mattress until Dean is on his back and Cas is hovering over him. Cas presses a finger to Dean’s lips, which had parted in surprise. 

“Shh,” Cas whispers, and his eyes are dark and his hand is tight around Dean’s cock and that was so hot Dean nearly comes right then. “You’ll wake Sammy.” 

Jesus Christ. 

Panting, Dean can’t do anything but lie there and take it as Cas jerks him fast with one hand, his other leaving Dean’s lips to slide around and fit against his jaw. Dean gets his fingers around Cas’s wrist and just holds on, and Cas stares down at him with those intense fucking eyes and takes him apart. It’s not long before Dean feels his balls tightening and he knows he’s about to come. 

“Cas,” he gasps, voice wrecked. “Cas, I’m gonna - I’m gonna come - ”

“Do it,” Cas says, voice deep and commanding and so fucking hot. 

Dean comes. 

Biting his lip hard to keep himself from making a sound, Dean’s distantly aware of Cas staring down at him as he shudders through his orgasm, his come splashing over his stomach. Cas works him through it, not letting go of Dean’s cock until he finally relaxes into the mattress, completely spent. 

“You’re incredible,” Cas murmurs, and Dean’s caught in his gaze, unable to think of a coherent response. 

“Fuck,” is all he gasps out. Cas chuckles at him. 

Leaning down, Cas captures Dean’s mouth in a kiss that lingers. When he licks at Dean’s lower lip Dean lets him in and their tongues slide together briefly before Cas pulls away. 

“Is there something I can clean you up with?” He whispers. 

“Bathroom,” Dean mumbles. 

Cas gets out of bed slowly and Dean watches him tug his boxers back on. He glances at Dean once, still lying naked and waiting for his heart rate to come down, and smiles at him before slipping out into the hall. 

By the time Cas comes back Dean’s pretty much recovered. His breathing has slowed to its normal rate and he feels pleasantly sleepy with post-orgasmn endorphins. He smiles lazily as Cas shuts the door quietly and wanders back to the bed. 

When Dean tries to take the damp washcloth, Cas doesn’t let him, pushing Dean’s hand away and dropping to his knees next to him on the mattress. So Dean just watches, laying back on the pillows with heavy eyelids as Cas gently takes care of him. 

The washcloth is warm on his skin as Cas wipes the drying cum from his stomach. Cas pays close attention to what he’s doing, careful to get it all cleaned, and Dean enjoys watching him. He almost doesn’t even care about the attention, in his contented haze. 

“There,” Cas says when he’s finished, as he smiles down at Dean. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispers. “Will you grab my pants?” 

Cas leans over to put the washcloth on the floor and get Dean’s sweats, and Dean openly watches the muscles of his back as he does it. He can’t get the image out of his head of Cas’s face as he came, his eyebrows knitted together and mouth open and cock heavy on Dean’s tongue. 

When he’s gotten his pants on, Dean settles back against the pillows and drags the blankets up over the both of them. Their feet tangle together and Dean lifts his arm to give Cas room to settle against him. Cas slides an arm over Dean’s chest and rests his chin on his hand, and they look at one another. They both smile, Dean chewing his lip almost sheepishly. It’s ridiculous, now, considering he just had Cas’s cock in his mouth and then came all over himself. 

“I enjoyed that,” Cas murmurs, and Dean grins wider. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Castiel begins tracing small patterns on Dean’s chest with his fingertips and Dean watches him, his own hand smoothing down Cas’s back. 

“Have you done these things before?” Cas asks. 

“What, sex?” 

Cas nods. 

Dean hesitates. “Yeah. I mean not, uh, with a guy. That girl I dated, Cassie, we had sex a few times. But this is my first time with, um, you know. A guy.” 

Cas hums quietly in understanding. “It’s my first time, too.” 

“With a guy?” 

“With anyone.” 

Dean frowns. “Wait, what?” 

Cas nods, and Dean stares at him a moment as if to decide if he’s joking. 

“You’re, like, super old,” Dean says, of all things, and Cas rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, thank you,” he says. “I remember.” 

“You’re a virgin?” Dean says in disbelief. “How?” 

“Well, as you know, I live in a pod with my brothers and sisters. Well,” Cas admits, tipping his head, “and their mates, but they’re now considered my family as well. We don’t come into contact with other pods very often.” 

“Oh,” Dean says slowly, thinking about that. “That makes sense, I guess.” 

“And merpeople don’t copulate recreationally.” 

Dean’s eyebrows quirk. “Oh. But this was okay, right?” 

“Absolutely,” Cas says. “More than okay.” 

Dean smirks. “You’re breaking enough rules already, right? What’s one more.” 

“Exactly,” Cas smiles and looks at him softly, his eyes crinkled a bit in the corners and Dean can’t help but brush his hair back from his forehead affectionately. 

“You’re so cute,” Dean whispers. Cas makes a little huffing sound and drops his gaze to Dean’s chest and Dean grins. “Are you blushing?” 

“No.” 

“Yes. You are.” Dean chuckles, and pokes at Cas’s side. He jerks with a grunt, and throws Dean an unconvincing glare. 

“I am not. And don’t poke me.” 

“Oh my god,” Dean says triumphantly. “You’re blushing _and_ you’re ticklish.” 

“No, I’m not - ”

Dean reaches with both hands towards Cas’s sides and only gets one or two good prods in before Cas jolts away, slapping at Dean’s hands. They scuffle, Dean trying to muffle his laughter as he tries to tickle Cas just as hard as Cas is trying to avoid it, but eventually Cas catches Dean’s wrists in each hand. 

Cas is freakin’ strong when he’s trying, and one second Dean’s jabbing at him playfully and the next he’s got both his arms above his head, Cas pinning them there by his wrists. His laughter dying in his throat, Dean stares up at him. 

Cas gazes down at him and Dean can feel his smile fading from his face as he all but melts into the mattress, heat pooling again low in his belly. Dean tries not to squirm and he knows that Cas notices because he sees his eyes darken and he’s definitely just as turned on as Dean is. 

Castiel tilts his head, intrigued. 

“You like this?” He whispers, leaning his weight into his arms with a quirked eyebrow, and Dean gulps. 

“Yes,” he gasps. 

Slowly, a smirk forms on Cas’s lips and Dean can’t take his eyes off of it. 

“Hm,” Cas hums. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Slowly, he leans down and presses his mouth to Dean’s, kissing him for a long moment before finally pulling away and releasing his wrists. 

“You’re a fucker,” Dean whispers, but it’s unconvincing and only makes Cas laugh. “Come back down here.” 

Cas does, and they trade kisses for a few minutes, lying together with their limbs tangled. Dean nudges his face into Cas’s neck, breathing him in, and he can feel the contented noise Cas makes rumble in his chest. 

Eventually, they both settle, with Dean sprawled on top of Cas and their faces close. Blinking down at him, Dean rests his chin on his fist on Cas’s chest like Cas had done before, his other hand tracing Cas’s collarbone with a fingertip. The neon sign casts a glow through the window dimly, and they breathe together. 

“Dean,” Cas whispers. Dean flicks his gaze up to meet his eyes, and finds Cas with a careful expression. 

“Yeah?” Dean whispers back. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Dean pulls his hand back into his own space and tucks it under his other, resting his chin on the both of them. 

“Yeah.”

Cas doesn’t say anything right away. He smooths a hand over Dean’s forehead and through his hair and seems to consider his words. 

“What were you dreaming about?” he finally asks. 

Dean takes a breath. He avoids Cas’s gaze and makes to roll off of him, onto his own side of the bed, but is caught by Cas’s arm around him. 

“Don’t,” Cas whispers. “Don’t pull away.” 

Though he’s tense, Dean does as Cas asks and stays where he is. He sighs. 

“I don’t remember,” he murmurs. He risks a glance at Cas’s face and finds him looking dubious. “Really, I don’t,” he insists. “I hardly ever remember my nightmares after I wake up.” 

Cas just watches him quietly, waiting for him to say more. Dean swallows. 

“I can guess, though,” Dean says, and this time when he tries to pull away Cas lets him, and he rolls onto his back beside him. In his peripheral vision, he sees Cas turn to his side to face him. 

Cas is patient with him. He doesn’t press for more, but silently waits for Dean to go on. They lie in the quiet for a long time as Dean gets his thoughts together. 

“I told you that my mom died,” Dean finally says. He hears Cas nod against the pillows beside him, his eyes trained on the ceiling. The shadows shift, faintly, as a car passes on Coastal Highway. “But I never told you how, huh?”

He glances at Cas to see him shake his head, his expression somber. Shifting on the mattress, Dean slides a palm across the bottom of his sternum. Gently, Cas reaches out and smooths his hand over the back of Dean’s, tangling their fingers and squeezing, and Dean lets him. He breathes. 

“My dad, he - he used to have a boat,” Dean starts. “He loved that thing. He called her The Colt, and she was real pretty, and we used to go out on the water, all the time. Since before Sammy was born, even.” 

Dean swallows. He concentrates on Cas’s thumb, which trails over his knuckles, back and forth. He concentrates on the rhythm of it, and how he can feel Cas’s breath, warm on his shoulder. 

“Well, when I - when I was six, there was… an accident.” 

Dean has no idea the last time he talked about this out loud. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever talked about this out loud, to anyone. He focuses on keeping his breathing steady. 

“It was in the fall. There was a really warm day out of nowhere, so my dad wanted to take us out.” Dean pauses, licks his lips nervously. “We were probably a quarter mile offshore, up north a bit from here. And there was a fire, on the boat. It was electrical, I know that, but I don’t know specifics - my dad never talked about it, still doesn’t. Not that I’d ever ask, but Sammy used to. ‘Cuz Sammy was just a baby, and he actually wasn’t there when it happened, and I - ” Dean shakes his head. “There’s nothing in my life I’m more grateful for than that. I’m not even sure where he was. Probably with Ellen and Bill, I guess, I remember being at their house a lot before all - all this.” 

He pauses, briefly. Jesus, he doesn’t even like to think about what could have happened if Sam had been there, and it makes his stomach twist painfully. 

“Anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat. “The fire, it spread real fast. I don’t - I only remember bits and pieces of it. My dad, he was… I remember him yelling. And he was trying to buckle my life jacket, I remember that, because I never liked having it buckled. But he must not have gotten it, because the next thing I remember I was in the water, and I was sinking, and - ”

Something lodges in Dean’s throat and he’s choked off, unable to go on for a long moment. He stares up at the ceiling, throat working, and avoids looking at Cas, but he can feel his gaze on the side of his face. 

“My mom drowned,” he says. “That’s the official cause of death, which I didn’t know ‘till I found a newspaper clipping in my dad’s duffel, years afterward. My dad had tried to save her, according to the article, but she was tangled up in something as the boat was sinking, and he couldn’t hold his breath long enough to get her out. And my fucking life jacket was unbuckled and he couldn’t - he couldn’t do both.” Dean swallows down the nausea rising inside him. “But it said, my mom - apparently, she was badly burned. Enough that they didn’t think she would’ve survived anyway, if my dad had gotten her out. And I don’t know, I hope - I hope my dad believes that. You know, so he doesn’t - so he doesn’t think - ”

Dean shrugs, unable to come up with the words any longer. They lie together, and Dean turns his wrist to give Cas’s hand a squeeze, before finally looking at him. 

“And you?” Castiel asks quietly, his eyes shadowed and searching. 

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not really sure what happened. I remember - water. Everywhere. I must’ve fallen off the boat, or gotten knocked off, or - I don’t know. But my lifejacket was gone. I had been taking swimming lessons, before, but I couldn’t - I couldn’t find the surface.” 

Cas stays silent, apparently listening intently.

“I remember inhaling water. And sinking. It felt like it lasted forever. And I remember how scared I was, how panicked, and then - ” Dean swallows. “And then I was on shore.” 

Dean breathes in deep, and lets it out slow. “All these people were around me, freaking out. But that’s - that’s it. I must’a passed out. The tide carried me in, is what they said. I would’ve drowned, but somehow I ended up on the beach.” He shakes his head. “Lucky, I guess.” 

When Cas doesn’t say anything for a long moment, Dean turns towards him, suddenly worried. Maybe he shouldn’t have said all this. Maybe this was too far into Dean’s personal past, and he’s finally freaked the guy out. Maybe this conversation was a terrible idea. But Cas’s face is cast in shadow, the window behind him, and his expression is hard to read. For a split second, Dean thinks he might see something in his eyes, something that Dean can’t quite identify - guilt? - and it makes him nervous - but maybe he’s imagining things. 

“This is why you’re afraid of the water,” Cas finally says, and his voice is mournful and it makes Dean’s heart ache dully. 

Dean nods. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, and when Dean opens his mouth to say “ _quit apologizing for things that aren’t your fault_ ,” Cas puts a finger to his lips to stop him, knowing it was coming. 

“Thank you for telling me this,” Cas murmurs. And instead of brushing it off, or making a self-deprecating comment, Dean just nods, and Cas looks pleased at that. 

“Thanks for listening,” Dean whispers, and the smallest of smiles lifts the corners of Cas’s mouth. He kisses Cas’s fingers, making his smile grow, before rolling to face him. The both of them slide their arms over one another, scooting in close until their knees bump under the covers and their noses are almost brushing. 

Dean is suddenly exhausted. He lets Cas comb his slender fingers through his hair, and it feels amazing. The emotional roller coaster that was the last hour seems to be catching up to him, his whole body feeling heavy. But here Cas is, in his arms, and he understands the magnitude of that - after all Cas has witnessed, all he’s come to understand about Dean, he’s here, and Dean isn’t sure what to do with that. He wants to feel grateful, and a part of him is, but he also feels cautious. 

“I like sleeping here with you,” Dean whispers, eyelids heavy, and he didn’t plan these words and they’re out of his mouth before he even thinks them. 

Cas nudges the tip of his nose against Dean’s, just barely. “I like sleeping here with you, too.” 

“You know, I used to hate sleeping by myself.” 

Dean sees a tiny crease form between Cas’s eyebrows.

“When we were on the road, Sammy and I always shared a bed. We were usually in crappy motel rooms, so we’d have one bed and my dad would have the other,” Dean suppresses a yawn. “Sleeping with that kid was like sleeping with a monkey.” 

Cas cracks a smile, and Dean feels his breath against his cheek as he chuckles. 

“He’d be sprawled all over me, all night long. It was awful. But then we came back here, and for the first time we had our own rooms. And I hated it.” 

Cas’s fingers pause in his hair, just for a second. “You hated it?” 

Dean nods. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just really didn’t like it. It was the farthest I’d ever been from the kid, and it made me nervous, you know? Usually it’s the older one who’s supposed to be happy to have their kid brother out of their hair, but - ” Dean shakes his head. “I slept on Sam’s floor for almost a year after we got back. My dad hated that.” 

He’s told Cas more than he’s ever told anyone in his life. But after voicing the explicit details of the accident, and his near drowning, and shit, he told him about his fears of John’s other family - this feels easy. And as much as he hates to admit it, it almost feels good. To get it out, off his chest, and into the air between them feels a little bit like lightening the load on him, and it’s a relief. A small one, but a relief. 

“Well,” Cas says quietly. “You’re not alone now.”

Dean nods, and feels his mouth turn up just a bit, but he can’t help but feel a particular sadness at the same time. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.” 

He pulls Cas close and kisses him, and it’s soft and unhurried, their lips slotting together warmly. They kiss, and Dean feels Cas’s hands on him, and he pretends that this is something he can hold on to, that it can be more than just _now._

He smooths his own hand up Cas’s back, his skin soft, and he pretends that Cas doesn’t have to leave, eventually. 

He lets himself believe that he’ll stay.


	9. havre de grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hoping you all don't hate me for how long this chapter has taken! I know it's been a while, but my semester was WAY crazier than anticipated... But it's over now, and spring should be better! Hoping to get into updating more regularly in the next few months, as I'm taking a lot fewer credits and have a plan for the last few chapters. 
> 
> Here's a long one for you guys. I'd love to know what you think of it in the comments! <3 
> 
> Shoutout to Charli for being lovely as always.

June moves slowly, sluggish in a way that’s warm and bright and lazy. The sun shines a pleasant amount for nearly three straight weeks, a stray thunderstorm only here and there, and just enough to cool the evenings off. 

The Bunker stays rather crowded, tourists and regulars alike lounging by the pool and tracking sand through the lobby. Due to the high occupancy, John has Dean on call near constantly in case a renter needs something, and it gets old pretty fast. He repairs Mrs. Tran’s sink again, explains to the mom in room six that the AC does work and she just needs to smack the side of the unit when it makes that noise, and he repaints the “Please rinse sandy feet before swimming in pool” sign twice because some kid keeps ripping it down and keeping it. He’s convinced it’s the same brat that also stands soaking wet and dripping on the lobby floor to stare whenever Jo’s working behind the desk. After Dean rehangs the sign higher than he thinks the kid could reach, it stays put. 

Room one gets rented out for over a week, so Cas spends every few nights in the pool. He likes it better than the tub anyway, which Dean is glad about, but since Cas has nowhere to go during the day if he needs it, Dean is careful to keep him on a strict schedule. Every two nights, whether he feels like he needs to or not, Cas goes in the pool. Though usually he claims he can wait until the following night, Dean never lets him and eventually Cas acquiesces. On those nights, Cas insists that Dean keep Shelley the dolphin with the reasoning “so you don’t have to sleep alone,” and Dean rolls his eyes. But when Cas is gone, he keeps Shelley tucked under the covers with him. 

One thing that Dean can’t help but notice over these couple of weeks, with Cas sometimes in bed with him and sometimes not, is that a pattern develops with his nightmares. Ever since the disaster of him waking up and absolutely losing it, thinking he was going to die right then and there with Cas watching, he doesn’t have any bad dreams on the nights that he and Cas are entangled under the blankets. He knows that isn’t a coincidence. 

As much as he dislikes the idea of anyone coddling him, protecting him from some made-up monsters in his head and keeping them at bay, Dean doesn’t say anything to Cas about it. He tells himself that it makes Cas feel better to think that he’s helping, soothing Dean with his merman mojo before the dreams really get a hold of him, and it would hurt his feelings if he were to tell him to quit it. That’s what Dean tells himself. 

On the mornings after he does stay the night with Dean, Castiel picks up a habit of going on early walks. More times than not, after a night that Cas slept in his bed, Dean will wake up to find him gone. Cas always returns mid-morning, never later than nine-thirty or so, strolling up through the parking lot with his hands in his pockets. 

Dean doesn’t ask about it, but he doesn’t need to. Lately, John’s had more of a presence around the Bunker and the apartment, and it only took Dean voicing his concern once about John walking in on them in the morning for Cas to take the hint. Though he can’t help but feel a little guilty, knowing how much Cas _isn’t_ a morning person, and what it must take for him to get out of bed so early, Dean appreciates the effort deeply. 

During the day, Sam and Cas hang out a lot. Dean isn’t sure what they get up to all the time while he’s working for his dad, but it makes him feel oddly warm in his chest when he thinks about how well they get along. He doesn’t study the feeling too closely. 

It’s a Tuesday evening when Dean gets his first look at what Cas and Sam have been doing all this time on their own.

Trudging back to the apartment after a long afternoon of cleaning sand out of the pool filters, Dean snaps the door shut behind himself and tromps down the hallway. He stops in the kitchen just long enough to toss the mail on the table and makes for the living room, only to stop dead in the doorway. 

“What - ” He stands, open-mouthed, and stares at the sight before him. 

The room has been completely rearranged. The mismatched couch and armchair have been pulled away from the walls and towards one another, and draped over them are more blankets than Dean even knew they owned. 

“What the hell?” Dean says. 

There’s a shuffling sound from beneath all the covers, and after a moment the blanket draped down the front is pulled aside. Sam’s grinning face turns up towards him. 

“Hey! You’re back!” 

“What are you doing?” Dean kicks his shoes off into the corner. 

“We built a fort!” Cas’s voice comes from inside. 

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Cas had never built a pillow fort before,” Sam explains. “So we had to.” 

“Had to?” Dean asks dubiously. Squatting near the opening, Dean tries to peer around Sam. 

“Come in.” Sam shuffles back a foot and holds the blanket to the side, inviting Dean to crawl inside. “It’s roomier than it looks.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Dean shifts down to his hands and knees and scuffles his way in. In spite of himself, his eyebrows lift, impressed. 

Sam was right -- it is much roomier on the inside than he expected. It’s not tall enough for him to be any more upright than a crouch, but there’s plenty of floor space. The TV is inside, playing cartoons on a low volume, the light from the screen casting a dim glow throughout the hideout. The low coffee table sits in front of it, and it’s obvious that the two of them have made progress on Cas’s puzzle. There are pillows covering the floor, and it’s actually quite comfortable. 

“Do you like it?”

Dean turns to find Cas grinning, and he can’t help but crack a smile. “Yeah, Cas, it’s cool.” 

“I hope you don’t mind, we took some blankets from your bed,” Cas explains from where he sits cross-legged next to the table. “I was sure to leave your favorite one.” 

Now that Cas says it, Dean realizes that he didn’t see his heavy green blanket incorporated into the ceiling of their fort. He didn’t realize that Cas had noticed it was his favorite. 

“Uh, thanks. Yeah, I don’t mind,” he says. “How long have you guys been under here?”

“A couple hours,” Sam says. He crawls past Dean to resume his spot next to the puzzle. 

Spotting a piece that had fallen under the table, Dean reaches for it and snags it from the carpet. He passes it to Cas, who takes it with a smile. 

“You seen Dad?” Dean asks. Sam shakes his head. 

“No,” he says with a snort. “You really think we’d still have the fort set up if Dad’s seen it already? He would love to bitch about this.” 

Dean flicks Sam on the back of the arm with a scowl. “Language, Sam.” 

Sam ignores Dean’s scolding. “Why? I thought he was with you.”

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head. “I was cleaning out pool filters. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Will he be upset about our pillow fort?” Cas asks, and Dean turns to find him with a concerned expression. 

“No,” Dean says. He hesitates, glancing at Sam to catch him rolling his eyes. “Well, he won’t love it.” 

“We can take it down, if you think - ”

“No,” Sam says sternly. “We’re not taking it down. We worked hard on it.” 

“It’s fine,” Dean tells Cas. “You guys can leave it up.”

“Okay,” Cas says, but he still looks dubious. 

The doubt that Cas expresses regarding John makes Dean’s stomach twist vaguely. He knows Cas hasn’t had the best impressions of the man from the things Dean has told him, as well as his own experiences with him - particularly, that time in the middle of the night John had come home drunk and irritable. Still, it makes Dean feel weird that Cas obviously dislikes him. Like he needs to defend his father, somehow. It’s not a new feeling. 

Dean shoves the thought aside. 

“Anyway,” Dean says. “You guys hungry?” 

Both of them nod, and Dean smiles. 

“Of course you are. I’ll get dinner started.” 

After crawling back out of the fort, Dean crosses the hall to the kitchen. He’d bought some frozen stir fry the last time he was at the grocery store, and he’s been saving it because he knows Sam likes it. Pulling it out of the freezer, he sets the bag on the counter and gets a pan from the bottom cabinet. 

“Do you need any help?”

Dean straightens up to find Cas standing in the middle of the kitchen. 

“I think I’m good,” Dean smiles. 

“What are you making?” Cas shuffles in close, Dean’s socks on his feet, to peer over his shoulder. 

“Stir fry. I think you’ll like it.” Tearing the bag open, Dean pours the contents into the prepared pan, dumping it all in. Might as well have leftovers. 

“Mmm,” Cas hums. “Looks good.” 

“It’s Sam’s favorite. I don’t get it often ‘cuz it’s expensive.” After stirring the food around to make sure it’s evenly spread, Dean places the lid over the pan and turns to face Cas, who wears a speculative expression. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Cas shakes his head. “Just thinking.” 

Dean feels his mouth stretch into a smile. “You look cute when you’re thinking.” 

Cas huffs his breath out quietly and looks away, and Dean lets himself grin. Reaching out, he hooks a finger through one of the belt loops at the front of Cas’s jeans. He tugs him close. 

“C’mere,” he mutters, and Cas obeys, shuffling in with a wry look. “You’re blushing.” 

“Am not,” Cas grumbles, and it makes Dean chuckle. 

“Are to.” He slides his hands over Cas’s waist, stepping into his space, and Cas brings his arms up to loop around Dean’s neck. 

“Whatever,” Cas mutters petulantly, and Dean grins wider. He drops his face into the side of Cas’s neck, nuzzling into his warm skin. When Cas tips his head to the side, baring the long line of his throat, Dean plants a kiss right on the side and they sway together. 

“What are we doing?” Cas whispers. 

“Dancing,” Dean murmurs into the skin below his ear. He feels Cas’s chuckle ghost across his neck. 

“I’ve never danced on legs before.” 

“I can tell.” 

Cas scoffs, and Dean nips at his earlobe with a smile.

“I’m teasing.” 

“You better be,” Cas grumbles. “ _Boy._ ” 

And Dean can’t help but laugh at that, his head tipping back with the force of it bubbling up through his chest. 

“Oh yeah?” He challenges, leaning back to look at Cas. “Or what? You’ll smite me with your _mermaid_ powers?” 

Dean chose the word purposefully, knowing how much it peeves Cas to be called a mermaid, and the scowl on his face is proof that it worked. He must know that Dean is messing with him, though, because there’s a glint in his eyes as he shakes his head. 

“You’re an ass,” he says. 

“Yeah, I know.”

Dean leans in and captures Cas’s mouth, pleased when Cas kisses him back immediately. They stand close, in the middle of the kitchen, still swaying ever so slightly and trading kisses. His thumb brushing the soft skin low on Cas’s back, just above the waistband of his jeans, Dean hums contentedly against his lips. It’s nice, standing there, the sound of the stir fry sizzling on the stove and the TV playing in the other room, and Dean feels warms all over. 

The apartment door opens with its loud creak from around the corner, and they break apart abruptly. 

Clearing his throat, Dean drops his gaze and steps back from Cas, pivoting to face the stove as his dad’s heavy footsteps come down the hall. By the time John gets into the doorway, Dean is stirring the food with his eyes trained on it resolutely, and Cas is leaning against the counter a safe four feet away. 

John tosses his keys on the table and Dean turns his head. 

“Hey,” he says over his shoulder. His voice sounds too high, and he cringes. 

John just grunts in return, and after casting a glance at Cas he starts shuffling through the mail on the table. 

“You get the pool filters done?” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies. The stir fry just about done, he reaches up into the cabinet for bowls, Cas stepping out of his way. 

“Good man,” John says gruffly, and Dean feels his cheeks flush. “What are you boys doing?” 

Dean finally turns to face his father completely, three bowls held between his hands. 

“Uh, just about to eat dinner. You hungry?” 

John glances at Cas again. “Sure,” he grunts. 

Dean catches Cas’s eye, and Cas steps towards the stove.

“Let me help,” he says, and he picks up the spoon to start dishing out the stir fry as Dean reaches in the cabinet for a fourth bowl. 

“Where’s your brother?” John asks, his gaze diverted back down to the mail.

“In the living room,” Dean replies, and it’s as soon as the words leave his mouth that he remembers the fort. 

“What the hell is that?” 

Dean turns to see his dad staring across the hall. 

“Uh,” Dean hands Cas the fourth bowl, who glances from John to Dean with a worried crease between his brow. 

Just then, Sam comes crawling out from beneath the blankets. 

“It’s a fort,” he says, as if his father is an imbecile. He stands, and joins them to look over Cas’s shoulder. “Stir fry!”

John looks to Dean, who avoids his accusatory gaze. “A fort?” 

“It’s just for fun,” Dean says, and passes John a full bowl and a fork. “We’ll clean it up.” 

“I want it gone by tomorrow morning,” John says, stabbing at his food. “It looks like a mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean mumbles, but he’s looking at Sam, who’s rolling his eyes with his back turned to his dad as he takes a bowl from Cas. 

“Huh?” John demands, and Dean swivels his eyes to look at him. 

“Yes, sir,” he repeats, more clearly. 

John nods, satisfied, and all four of them stand with their bowls in their hands, rather awkwardly. 

John never joins them for dinner. Usually Dean just leaves leftovers in the fridge for him, and they’re gone by morning, but he thinks he can count on one hand the times they all ate together. No one really seems to know what to do. 

Cas is the first one to make a move, stepping over to the table and setting his bowl down. Sam goes next, and with a glance towards John, Dean follows their lead. He scoops the mail off the table and tosses it to the counter before sitting down. 

Finally, John follows, and they all settle at the rickety table that is just barely big enough for the four of them. Dean doesn’t think it’s ever had this many people around it - he wonders if his dad has ever used it at all.

“So,” Sam says into the uncomfortable silence, his speech muffled by the chicken and broccoli in his mouth. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Dean and John say simultaneously, and they both glance at one another in surprise. 

“That was weird,” Sam says, mouth still full, before swallowing with a gulp. 

Dean shakes his head and drops his eyes down to his bowl, stabbing at his food. 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sam says. “Dad, I wanted to ask you something.” 

John raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? What about?” 

“Well,” Sam says, drawing the syllable out long. He sets his fork down, extra delicately, and leans in his chair to reach into his back pocket. “This brochure came in the mail yesterday. And I thought it looked cool.” 

Sam unfolds the colorful pamphlet and tries in vain to smooth out the creases before he gives up and turns it so everyone can see. Dean squints at the front of it. 

“Estuary Explorers Day Camp?” John reads aloud, sounding dubious. 

“Yeah,” Sam says with enthusiasm, and he flips it back around to look at the front himself. “It’s a week long, and it’s led by the Maryland Coastal Bays Program. I think it looks neat. Listen, it says we’d be doing - hang on - ‘outdoor investigations including critter sampling, orienteering, watershed studies, kayaking, forestry, and more!’” Sam lifts his head to grin around the table. 

“Wait a second,” Dean says. “You wanna go to _nerd camp?_ ” 

John snorts, and Dean shakes his head with a grin. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s not _nerd camp_ , it’s - it’s an ‘exciting exploration of our local watershed!’ It says it right here, it’s great for those interested in a future in marine biology.” 

“Sounds a lot like nerd camp to me, kid,” Dean says, nudging at Sam with his elbow and getting a glare in return. 

“I think it’s a great idea.” 

All three Winchesters turn to stare at Castiel, who offers Sam an encouraging smile. 

“Estuaries are very important to marine ecosystems,” Cas says. “Not only do they provide critical nesting and feeding habitats for a variety of aquatic animals, they’re also vital temporary homes for migratory species.” 

It’s quiet around the table. Dean blinks at him. 

“They also help prevent coastal erosion,” Cas adds simply. 

After one more beat of silence, Sam grins. 

“See? That’s awesome. And there’s a field trip, too.” Sam shuffles through the pamphlet, apparently looking for the field trip information. 

“Since when are you interested in marine biology?” Dean asks, polishing off the last of his stir fry. 

Sam makes a face like Dean’s an idiot, and gestures towards Cas with a look that says, “ _Uh, hello?_ ” 

Right - the whole “my brother’s boyfriend is a merman” thing. 

Dean gets caught for a second on that word, _boyfriend_. It’s the first time he’s even thought it in his head in regards to Cas and it makes him pause. Is Cas his boyfriend? Would Cas _want_ to be his boyfriend? Dean’s stomach twists and he forces himself to zone back into the conversation before he freaks himself out. 

John sets his fork in his empty bowl and leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. 

“So how much does this ‘Explorer’s Camp’ cost?” 

Sam looks sheepish. “One hundred and ten dollars.” 

John’s eyebrows shoot up. “For a _week?_ ” 

“Well, it includes a field trip.”

John huffs. “And where’s this camp at?”

“Northside Park.” Sam slides the brochure across the table to his dad, who looks down at it but doesn’t make a move to take it. 

“That’s practically Fenwick. How are you planning on getting there every morning?” 

Sam looks to Dean. Dean shrugs. 

“I wouldn’t mind drivin’ him,” Dean says. 

“It’s not till August,” Sam adds. “The second week.” 

John shakes his head and surveys his youngest across the table. “A hundred and ten bucks, Sam. To splash around in the bay.” 

Dean watches as Sam opens his mouth to correct his dad but thinks better of it, snapping it shut. He shrugs. 

“I’d learn a lot,” Sam just says, and Dean knows they’re coming before they do, and yep - here come the puppy dog eyes. 

Dean actually shakes his head in wonder. He doesn’t know how the kid does it, just turns them on like that. Those damn puppy eyes work every time, even on John. Their dad blows his breath out in a burst, and Dean knows it’s over. He’s gonna be driving his brother to this nerd camp every day for a week come August. 

“You plannin’ on doing anything for me in return?” John asks. “How ‘bout some chores around here?” 

Sam fails to bite back the huge grin threatening to split his face. 

“What kinda chores?” 

“You can start by doin’ the dishes for your brother.” John nods his head at their four empty bowls. 

“No, it’s alright, I can - ” Dean starts, but Sam cuts him off. 

“Okay!” He exclaims, and he’s up and out of his chair in a flash, snagging his own bowl off the table with a rattle and coming around to collect everyone else’s. 

“Can’t believe you’re letting him go to nerd camp,” Dean mutters when Sam dashes off towards the sink with the dishes, and John cracks half a smile. 

“It’s all about choosing battles with that one,” John says, and he scrapes his chair back to stand and step across the kitchen to the fridge. Hooking a beer between his knuckles, he twists off the cap as he toes the door shut and comes back to the table. Sam is at the sink, loudly scrubbing dishes and probably making more of a mess than anything. 

“So,” John says, settling again in his chair. He looks up. “It’s Cas-teel, right?” 

Mildly startled, Dean snaps his gaze up to find Cas looking equally caught off guard. He catches Dean’s eyes only briefly, and turns to John. 

“Castiel,” he corrects. “But Cas is fine.” 

John surveys him as he takes a swig of his beer. “What, you into marine biology, too?”

Cas hesitates, but only for a moment. “Yes. I… studied it. In school.” 

“You just graduate?” 

Cas glances at Dean again, and nods. “Yes.” 

Dean’s gaze swivels from John to Cas and back, his heart hammering in his chest. He has no reason to be worried, right? His dad and his friend are just chatting amicably. His dad, who tends to be a judgemental prick at times, and his friend, who happens to be a merman at times - and also may or may not spend the night in Dean’s bed more often than he doesn’t. 

Jesus Christ. 

“He’s from Cape Henlopen area,” Dean says, unable to help himself from butting in. 

Cas smiles. “Yes. I was raised there.” 

“So what are you doing, now that you’ve graduated?” John asks. 

Sam turns from across the kitchen to watch the interaction happening at the table, a wet bowl and a towel in his hands. Dean catches his eye and tries to ask for help with a look, but Sam just shrugs, as helpless as Dean feels. 

“Nothing,” Cas says, and John’s dark eyebrows quirk. “I mean - I’m staying with my family,” he corrects. “They want me to stay. I have a lot of siblings.” 

John nods. That was the right answer - at least, it was one that John liked. 

“Family’s important,” John says, and Cas visibly deflates in relief. “Dean’s doin’ the same thing. Stickin’ around, helping me with the motel.” 

When Cas looks at him, Dean finds that he can’t meet his eye. He stares down at the table instead, where he picks at some crusted food with a thumbnail. 

“You got a job?” John asks. 

Cas doesn’t answer right away, still regarding Dean, but Dean finally sees him turn back to John in his peripheral vision. 

“No. I don’t.”

“Get one, kid,” John says, and he lifts his beer to his lips. “It’s a good way to help your family out.”

“Yes, sir,” Cas says with a nod. Dean thinks the words sound strange in his mouth, and he doesn’t like it. 

Apparently satisfied, John gulps the last of his beer and tosses the bottle into the trash from his seat at the table. 

“Dishes are done,” Sam announces, and he hangs the dish towel over the handle of the oven. 

John nods. “Good. I want you doin’ more around here until that camp of yours, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll write you a check, but you gotta do the rest to get registered.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

John grunts, and he stands. “Anyway, boys - ”

And Dean knows that tone. Immediately, he’s thinking about the next week - how much food is in the fridge? Is he gonna need to ask his dad to leave money for groceries? He just got paid by Bobby, so that covers gas. 

“ - I’m goin’ out of town for a little. I’ll be leaving tonight.” 

Nodding, Dean’s thinking about the food they have. There’s lunch meat and cereal, and he was sure to buy the carton of eighteen eggs last time. They should be okay. 

“Dean, I’ve got you on the night shift on Friday. And Ellen knows to call you if somethin’ comes up, so keep your phone on you.” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean says. He knows Ellen won’t call him, she never does. She insists that “ _Rufus is gettin’ paid for a reason, I’ll call him_.” Dean’s not complaining. It’ll be nice to have a few days off from running around whenever some renter needs something. 

“And Sam,” John points at his youngest. “I want that damn fort cleaned up before you go to bed.” 

“Yes, sir,” Sam grumbles. 

John pulls the fridge open and grabs another beer. 

“I’ll call you boys in a few days, let you know when I’ll be back.” 

Dean nods. He doesn’t look at his dad as he claps Dean on the shoulder on his way out of the kitchen. He can feel Cas’s eyes on him, but he keeps his own trained on the linoleum. 

The three of them are quiet as John’s footsteps fade down the hall. His bedroom door snaps shut. 

“Well,” Sam says, clapping his hands together. “Dairy Queen?” 

***

John’s gone by the time they’re back from getting ice cream. The apartment is dim as they all clamber through the door, the only light coming from the yellowish bulb over the stove. Dean tosses his keys into the dish on the table in the hall as they make their way past. 

Sam lets out a huge yawn. “Dean, do I have to take my fort down tonight?”

“Tomorrow’s fine, Sammy,” Dean says, fighting back a yawn of his own. 

“Are you going in the pool tonight, Cas?” Sam asks. 

“No, I’m okay until tomorrow,” Cas says with a shake of his head. 

“Can we go to the beach tomorrow?”

“Sure, Sam,” Dean says. He ushers his brother down the hall, Cas close behind them, and they all pile into the tiny bathroom to brush their teeth. 

“Doesn’t my camp sound cool?” Sam asks around his toothbrush. 

“Yeah, it sounds neat.” 

“Cas thought it was cool.”

“I said it sounds neat!” Dean insists, leaning around Cas to spit in the sink. 

“You think it’s nerdy.” 

“It _is_ nerdy.” 

“I think it sounds exciting,” Cas says. Sam gives Dean a bitch face, and Dean rolls his eyes, rinsing out his toothbrush and leaving the water on for them. 

“You’re both nerds.” Dean tosses his toothbrush into the cup and Cas and Sam do the same. 

They go their separate ways in the hall, Sam heading off to his room with one more comment about Dean being a jerk, and “at least Cas is on my side.” 

Cas looks pleased at that, and Dean shakes his head.

“Night, bitch,” he says, and ruffles Sam’s hair before the kid can slip into his room. 

“Night, guys.” 

“Good night, Sam.” 

Dean pulls Sam’s door almost shut, and turns to Cas. 

“Wanna watch some TV?” 

Cas nods. They stop in Dean’s room briefly to change into pajamas and then make their way back to the living room, their footsteps soft and muffled on the carpet. 

Cas crawls into the fort first, and Dean enjoys the view of his ass as he does before following. After shuffling around for the remote, Dean finally finds it and clicks the TV on and they settle against the half dozen pillows on the floor. 

“I can’t believe you guys even found all these pillows,” Dean mutters, flicking through channels.

“Well, there’s only one left on your bed,” Cas says sheepishly. “And Sam took all of them from your father’s.” 

Dean shakes his head. “Of course he did. I swear, that kid lives to piss my dad off.” 

They find a cheesy sci-fi movie about aliens and Dean leaves the TV on that, tossing the remote away. The light from the screen illuminates the fort dimly, the blankets making it feel hushed and subdued underneath. Dean blinks slowly at the TV. 

“Dean?” Cas whispers. 

Turning his head, Dean finds Cas looking at him, eyes wide and dark. 

“Does it make you nervous when your father leaves?” 

Dean frowns, a little surprised by the question. “Huh?” 

“When your father leaves,” Cas repeats, and he shifts to lie half on his side, sliding a hand over Dean’s belly. “Does it make you nervous?” 

Dean swallows and shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.” 

With Cas surveying him closely, Dean keeps his own gaze on Cas’s hand, where it fiddles with the hem of Dean’s shirt. 

“It used to, when we lived on the road,” he clarifies. “But here, there’s Bobby and Ellen if we need something. As long as we’re good on groceries, I don’t really worry too much.” 

Cas hums softly, his fingertips sneaking beneath Dean’s shirt and skimming over his skin. It tickles, and Dean tries not to twitch. Cas must notice, because he smiles. 

“You wanna hear something funny?” Dean asks, scooching down the pillows a few inches to rest more comfortably against them. 

Cas presses his mouth to the top of Dean’s head. “Hmm…?” 

“When we were little,” Dean says, eyes half closed and unfocused on the TV, “and my dad would leave, Sammy always wanted to know where he went. So I made up this big story so that he’d quit asking.” Between them, Dean slides his hand down the inside of Cas’s arm. “I told him that our dad hunted monsters. Like - werewolves, and vampires, that kinda stuff. I don’t know if you have anything like that where you come from.” 

“We have stories about monsters, yes.” 

“Well anyway, that’s the reason I said our dad was gone so much - hunting monsters. Sam loved that shit.” Dean shakes his head, and feels his hair rustle as Cas chuckles. 

“I can see Sam thinking that was exciting,” Cas murmurs. 

“Yeah, he really did.” 

Dean can still picture how the kid’s eyes had always shone brightly, every time Dean made up a new monster that John had left them to hunt. He’d made Sam swear not to let their dad know that Dean had told him, and Sam had loved that just as much - a secret between Dean and Sam was almost as exciting as the prospect of their dad being a fearless demon-hunter. 

Dean tries to remember when Sam had stopped believing him. It wasn’t long after they moved back, even though Sam was still little then. Too smart for his own good, even at six. 

But now that Dean knows where John really goes, he can’t even imagine having the energy to come up with some bullshit story like that. To think he’d been making his dad out to be some kind of hero, out saving the world when he was really leaving his kids in a shitty motel room to drive two states away to visit his other fucking - 

“Hey.” 

Letting out his breath, Dean looks up at Cas. As if he knows what he was thinking, Cas slides a hand around the side of Dean’s neck. 

“We couldn’t be doing this if he was here,” Cas whispers. 

Slowly, Dean’s mind returns to the present, where he and Cas are lying under a blanket fort where it’s soft and warm and dim, their socked feet nudging together and their hands on one another. He lets himself smile. 

“Yeah, that’s true.” 

“Or this.” 

And Cas presses his mouth to Dean’s, almost tenderly. When he kisses back, Dean feels Cas’s lips curve into a smile. 

“Or this…” Cas whispers, and Dean catches the words between his lips as he opens his mouth to let Cas in, their tongues sliding together. 

“And you definitely wouldn’t let me do this,” Cas pulls back just long enough to murmur, and he shifts onto his elbow and slides a leg over Dean so that he’s straddling his hips. Dean nips at his lower lip playfully, hands sliding up the back of Cas’s shirt. 

They make out, and Dean has to admit to himself that Cas is right. In the past two weeks, they’d barely done any of this. Dean’s been working so much at the motel during the day, and John’s had too much of a presence around the apartment at night for Dean to feel comfortable fooling around. 

And God, did he miss it. 

Dean lets his knees fall open and Cas slots a thigh between them, bringing their bodies flush. It’s unhurried, how they come together, almost casual. 

With his hands settled in the shallow curve of Cas’s waist, where they’ve rucked his shirt up to his ribs, Dean tips his head back when Cas kisses over his throat. He sighs, the light from the TV glowing behind his eyelids and a quiet heat pooled steady and low in his belly. It spikes when Cas’s fingers tangle deep in his hair, blunt nails scraping his scalp. Cas tips Dean’s head back further with his grip in his hair, giving himself better access to his throat, and Dean goes more than willingly, almost melting under his touch. 

“Gettin’ handsy there, Cas,” Dean whispers, and he’s surprised by how gruff his voice sounds. Cas nips at Dean’s neck beneath his jaw and Dean twitches, grinning. 

“I was getting the impression that you like handsy,” Cas murmurs behind Dean’s ear, his voice low. 

“Mmm, I do…” Dean admits, and he lets himself roll his hips up to meet Cas’s. 

Cas grinds down into him without hesitation, and Dean’s mouth falls open as he tightens his fingers in the muscles of Cas’s back. Dean can already feel his dick beginning to fill inside his pants, no doubt a result of two weeks without much attention. 

Cas breathes into Dean’s neck, his hands roving freely down Dean’s torso and up his shirt. 

They get into a rhythm rutting against one another, Dean with a handful of Cas’s ass. He can feel Cas’s cock stiffening against his through the layers of fabric between them, and it makes his skin feel hot. 

“Dean,” Cas says, fingers tugging at Dean’s waistband. 

“Yeah,” Dean babbles breathily, nodding. “Yeah, it’s good, it’s okay - ” 

Cas gets his hand down the front of Dean’s pants and into his underwear, making Dean gasp as his fingers curl around his cock. Cas strokes him from base to tip with no hesitation, and Dean meets his eye, a question on his tongue. 

“I’ve been practicing,” Cas says by way of explanation for his new-found confidence, twisting his wrist on the upstroke with a practiced tightening of his fist. 

“Practicing?” Dean pants.

Cas nods. “On myself.” 

Dean just stares at him for a moment, mouth open and eyes wide at the thought of Castiel jerking himself off.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groans at the image and slides his hand up the back of Cas’s head to pull his face down into a searing, open-mouthed kiss. 

Tongues twisting together hotly, Dean focuses on the feeling of Cas’s hand on him and his weight over him, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Dean reaches down to work his own hand into the front of Cas’s sweats. He guides Cas’s hips closer until they’ve each got a hand around their cocks and they’re thrusting up into the tight space created by their laced fingers. 

“Feels good,” Cas gasps against the corner of Dean’s mouth, and Dean nods. It’s not as good as it probably would be with lotion, but Dean feels hot and needy and he doesn’t have the patience to go get it. He thinks about how he should buy some lube, and his dick twitches heavily in their hands. 

Dean can feel the friction of the carpet on the top of his bare ass where his pants have slid down low but he doesn’t care, barely even registering it. There’s a heat in his belly that spikes each time his dick slides against Cas’s but it’s frustratingly fleeting and he needs more. 

“Cas,” he pants. “Cas - ”

“What?” Cas says, hips already moving erratically and his other hand around Dean’s jaw. “What, Dean?”

“I need - will you - ” Dean can’t get the words out, hardly even knows what he’s trying to ask for. “I want you to - ”

“Anything, what - ”

Dean captures Cas’s lips again, mouth wide, his tongue swiping over Cas’s teeth and he swallows the sound Cas makes. Desperate, Dean’s free hand slides between them and down, past where Cas ruts into their fists, Dean too distracted to keep his hips moving, and he shoves his own pants and boxers down his thighs. 

Cas breaks the kiss with a wet sound, shaking his head, and he says, “Dean, I’m going to - I have to - ”

His pants and underwear pushed almost to his knees, Dean hastily shoves his first two fingers in his mouth. 

“What are you - ” Cas chokes out, eye wide as he watches Dean’s fingers disappear between his lips, and when he pulls them out they’re slick and glistening, a string of spit connecting his fingertips to his mouth momentarily and Cas gapes at him. 

As Dean’s hand travels back down, Cas props himself up by a palm next to Dean’s head so he can follow the movement with his eyes as his other hand moves desperately over he and Dean’s cocks. Breathing heavy, Dean doesn’t hesitate as he reaches down behind his balls until he finds the heat between his legs, circling the pads of his two fingers over his hole once before pressing a fingertip into his ass, and Cas lets out a choked, “ _Oh_ ,” as he comes at the sight. 

“Fuck - ” Cas says, pulsing over he and Dean’s fists and onto Dean’s belly where his shirt’s been rumpled up. “Fuck, I’m sorry - ”

“It’s okay,” Dean insists with a shake of his head, watching Cas’s mouth around the swear word that sounds so fucking hot coming from his lips. “It’s okay, really - ”

Cas works himself through his orgasm without taking his eyes from Dean and where his hand disappears between his legs, and Dean sees his throat bob as he swallows. 

“Dean, can I - ” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, nodding. “Yeah, Cas, I want you to - ” 

Dean slips his finger from himself and suppresses a gasp from the sensation, Cas staring as he absentmindedly wipes his hand on his shirt. 

Finally dragging his eyes back up to Dean’s face, Cas reaches up to bring his fingers to Dean’s lips. Dean takes them into his mouth immediately, swirling his tongue around them and coating them with his spit. He pulls back when they’re wet enough, and Cas is breathing just as heavily as he is when he reaches between Dean’s legs just like Dean had done and finds his hole. 

Dean nods at him in encouragement, his own hand returning to his dick to stroke himself as Cas slides a finger into his ass. 

The feeling has Dean letting his breath out in a puff, squeezing his cock as Cas begins to finger him carefully. 

“Is this okay?” Cas asks, and Dean nods. 

“It’s good, it’s - more, Cas, c’mon.” 

Cas picks up the pace, Dean matching it with the speed of his fist on his dick, and it isn’t long before Cas has two fingers inside him and Dean is gasping. 

There’s a slight burn but the angle is so much better with Cas’s fingers deep inside him than his own, making him feel lit up. He finds himself moving his hips down onto Cas’s fingers with every time he cants them up into his fist, every once in a while Cas hitting a spot inside him that makes him gasp. 

Cas’s mouth is on his collarbone, wide and wet, where the collar of his t-shirt has slid. Dean tightens his fingers around his cock as Cas hits that spot again, and he tries to keep his hips from bucking desperately but he can’t. 

“Fuck, Cas,” he pants into Cas’s ear, the heat between his hips growing hotter and spreading. “There, right - yeah, do that again - ”

Cas does, and then he does it again, and he pulls back to watch Dean’s face as he fails to bite back a whine and he comes so hard he shudders through it. Dean bites his lip hard, his t-shirt getting even more ruined but he doesn’t care. He strokes himself once or twice more before relaxing, letting his arm fall to the side. 

Cas gently pulls his fingers from Dean’s ass, who winces at the strange feeling. They look at one another, the both of them with hooded eyes and flushed faces. 

“That was…” Cas says, still breathless. 

“Yeah,” Dean croaks with a nod. 

Cas tugs his pants back up his hips and Dean does the same before he pulls his soiled t-shirt over his head. He wipes the come off his stomach with it before tossing it aside, and Cas settles over him once again.

Their breathing comes down, settling in the warmth of each other under the roof of blankets. 

“This is a good spot for this,” Dean murmurs. He lets his own hands trail over Cas’s torso, palm skimming across his chest beneath his shirt. The TV still plays softly, forgotten by the both of them. 

“I agree.” 

“I think we should keep the fort up for a few more days.” 

In the dark, with the light from the TV behind him, Cas is mostly in shadow but Dean can just make out the curve of his smile. 

“When do you think your father will be back?” 

Dean shrugs with one shoulder. “Maybe a week.” 

“So we can do more of this?” Cas’s fingers comb through Dean’s hair, his eyes soft. 

“Yes,” Dean says, his mouth spreading into a smile. “So we can do much more of this.” 

Cas leans down and kisses him.They kiss softly, and as they do, Dean gets a sudden thought. 

“Cas?”

“Hmm…?” 

“Do you wanna go somewhere?”

Cas pulls back, eyebrows drawn together. He blinks down at Dean. “Go somewhere?” 

Shifting on the pillows, Dean tugs absently at the hem of Cas’s shirt. “Yeah. What if we just got out of here for a few days? You know, go on a road trip.” 

“A what?” 

“A road trip. It’s when you get in the car and you drive somewhere far away.” 

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun. And you get to see things.” Dean doesn’t know what made him come up with this out of nowhere, but now that he has he can’t think of a better thing for them to do. 

Cas seems to contemplate a moment, his eyes searching Dean’s face. “I would like to see things.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas says with a nod, but he looks unsure. “But… I’m not sure how far I can go from the ocean.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never been very far inland. What if I get sick?” 

Undeterred, Dean shakes his head. “We’ll stay along the Chesapeake. We won’t be far from water, and we’ll find somewhere for you to swim.”

Slowly, Cas’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Cas nods. “Yeah, okay. When would we go?” 

There’s a flutter in Dean’s stomach, but it’s not a bad one. It doesn’t feel like uneasiness, for once. As Cas brushes his hair back from his forehead, Dean fights to hold back a smile. “Tomorrow.” 

Cas’s eyebrows lift. “Tomorrow?” 

Suddenly excited, Dean sits up, forcing Cas to do the same. He gets his hands around the underside of Cas’s thighs and pulls him close, until he’s straddling Dean’s lap snugly. 

“Yeah, tomorrow. We can get up early, wake Sammy, and just go.”

“We could do that?” Cas looks incredulous, but there’s the glint in his eye and the curve of his smile, and Dean can see the thrill he feels himself reflecting back at him. 

“Why not? I’ve got money from Bobby. My dad’ll have no idea we’re gone. We can stay in a shitty motel, and eat crap food, and do whatever we want.” 

Cas actually laughs, a sound that comes from in his chest and seems to erupt out of him before he can stop it, and Jesus it sounds so beautiful to Dean’s ears that it makes him ache. He wraps his arms around Cas tight and pulls him impossibly closer, grinning up at him with Cas’s hands on either side of his face. 

“What do you say? You want to?”

Eyes shining with adventure, Cas nods. “I’d love to.” 

“First thing tomorrow, we’ll go.”

“First thing.” Cas nods, and leans down to capture Dean’s mouth with his own. 

***

“Sammy. _Sammy_. Wake up. Cas, wake him, would you?” 

Dean grabs his brother’s backpack from the corner of his room and unceremoniously dumps its contents onto the carpet. 

“Sam,” Cas whispers, crouching over Sam’s bed. He prods him. “Wake up.” 

Shuffling through Sam’s dresser, Dean grabs a couple t-shirts and two pairs of jeans, shoving them in the backpack. He starts looking for where the kid keeps his underwear. 

“ _Sam_.” 

“Huh?” 

“Wake up.” 

“I’m awake. What’s goin’ on?” 

Dean finds underwear and jams a few pairs into the bag, along with socks. Sitting up in bed, Sam looks like a little kid as he rubs at his eyes, confused and half-asleep. 

“Look alive, Sammy,” Dean says, full volume, and doesn’t miss the way Sam winces at his loud voice. “Up and at ‘em, let’s go.” 

“Go where? What’s happening?” 

“We’re going on a road trip,” Cas says, taking the backpack from Dean as he hands it to him. “Dean packed you a bag.” 

“We’re going - _now?_ ” Sam blinks at the two of them, looking incredulous. 

“Yeah, kid,” Dean waves a hand at him. “Now. C’mon, let’s go!” 

As if realizing that he isn’t dreaming, and Dean and Cas are really in his room at six in the morning and insisting that they’re packing up and leaving, a huge grin slowly spreads across Sam’s face. 

“Seriously?” 

“Not if you don’t get out of bed!” Dean insists, and Sam snatches the backpack from Cas and scrambles to his feet, suddenly wide awake. 

“I’m up! I’m ready!” 

Chuckling, Dean shakes his head. “Get some clothes on, sleeping beauty. Meet us in the kitchen.” 

Dean grabs the duffel he packed for Cas and himself from the hall and the two of them head for the kitchen. 

“Grab all the snacks you can find in the cabinet,” Dean says with a point. 

By the time they’ve filled three grocery bags with cereal, chips, and cookies, Sam joins them, looking bright-eyed and excited. He’s dressed, and has his backpack slung over his shoulders. 

“You ready?” Dean asks, and Sam nods. He looks to Cas, who also nods with a grin. “Let’s hit the road.” 

Piled in the Impala, with their bags stuffed in the trunk and their snacks in the back seat with Sam, they head out. The sky is lightening gradually, the sun rising over the water and giving Coastal Highway a pale, warm feeling. Though they’re quiet as they set off, there’s a faint buzzing in the air of the car, an excitement stemming from the early morning and the spontaneity and the prospect of getting away. 

Dean glances to his right a couple of times at Cas, and up towards the rear view mirror to catch glimpses of Sam. They both stare out their respective windows with wide eyes, as if the rising sun is giving the passing condos and shops some new quality they hadn’t seen before. 

The radio plays softly, tuned to the classic rock station from the last time the Impala was driven, and Dean points them inland. They drive over the Assawoman Bay, and it isn’t until they get to the other side and are crossing through Ocean Pines that Sam speaks up. 

“Dean, is this Ocean Pines?”

“Yeah.” 

“Where we used to live?” 

“Yeah.” 

“There are so many houses.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything to that, keeping his eyes ahead as Cas and Sam peer out the windows at the passing neighborhoods. It’s been a while since he’s driven through here, and he doesn’t think Sam ever comes this way. 

“What street did we live on?”

It was the corner of Brandywine and Harwich. Dean can recall learning to memorize it in the first grade. The house was tucked back into some trees and there was a screened-in porch in the back that faced east, and a narrow pebbled path that led from the side door all the way out to the backyard. His mom always hung these giant ferns on the front porch, and his dad parked the Impala in the garage. 

“I don’t remember,” Dean says. 

Sam makes a small disappointed noise but Dean doesn’t dwell on it, and he feels Cas’s eyes on the side of his face. 

They get through Ocean Pines and out onto Route 50 and Dean hits the gas. The residential area gives way to corn fields on either side and Dean hasn’t felt the open road like this in a long time. It feels good, and the three of them roll down their windows and let the breeze in, the salty smell of the ocean falling behind them. 

It’s hard for Dean not to get distracted by Castiel to his right. He looks out the windows in wonder, blue eyes wide and astonished, hair rustling over his forehead in the wind. It’s gotten a bit longer since he’s been around. 

Cas asks about the corn fields and nods along studiously while Sam explains them, and Dean has to bite back a smile. 

They’re passing through Salisbury, about forty-five minutes in, when Cas asks for some water. Sam passes a bottle up to him, and Dean glances at him with a concerned frown. 

“You okay?” he asks, but Cas just nods. Dean presses his lips together, unconvinced. “We’re halfway to the Bay.”

“I’m alright,” Cas insists. 

“Yeah, okay.” Dean says, but he steps on the gas. 

Despite his insistence that he feels fine, Cas looks a little pale to Dean as they cruise down the two-lane highway. He’s got a pinched look about him and he downs the bottle of water in just a few minutes, but when Dean opens his mouth again to say something, with worry creasing his brow, Cas shoots him a look. 

“I’m _fine._ ” 

Dean doesn’t push the matter even though he wants to, but Cas does turn out to be okay. They come up on Cambridge within the next hour, and Cas visibly relaxes just before Dean even sees the water. Cas takes a deep breath, his eyes closing against the breeze, as Route 50 sends them north and they cross over one of the Bay’s tributaries. Dean turns up the music. 

For the better part of the next hour they drive with the water somewhere through the trees to their left - every once in a while a spidery finger of an estuary makes its way to the road and they’ll catch glimpses of it, but no more than that. 

Dean doesn’t remember the last time he and Sam travelled this far from the motel in any direction, particularly over this way, and seeing the Bridge for the first time in years catches him by surprise. It’s abrupt, the way Route 50 veers west again and then all of a sudden the Chesapeake Bay is ahead of them, huge and gleaming. The three of them collectively take an astonished breath. 

The Bay Bridge seems even bigger than Dean remembers it, impossibly long over the stretch of the water. He slows the car as the speed limit decreases, following the sparse traffic across. 

“Wow,” Sam gasps. 

“It’s beautiful,” Cas murmurs, and Dean nods in agreement. 

There are boats leaving trails through the water far below them, the scene framed between the steel cables of the suspension bridge as they pass. It’s an astonishing sight, and Dean’s so enraptured by the sun glinting off the water and the awed quiet inside the car that he forgets to be nervous as they cross. 

***

They make it to Baltimore by mid-morning. The last hour of the drive follows the Chesapeake north, staying close enough to the water that Dean doesn’t worry too much about Cas. 

The buildings rise over the horizon and get taller, and Dean recognizes the skyline. He hasn’t been to Baltimore since a school field trip his sophomore year, but he finds it hard to forget. He doesn’t think Sammy’s ever been, unless they all went as a family when he was just a baby. Dean doesn’t remember. 

“Where are we?” Cas asks, eyes wide as they get closer. 

“Baltimore City,” Dean says. 

“It’s _huge_ ,” Cas says incredulously, and Dean and Sam trade grins in the rear view mirror. 

Dean finds them a cheap diner outside the city where they crowd into a sticky booth and eat breakfast. Sam blabbers on the whole time about everything he wants to see - Fort McHenry, the art museum, the science center - Cas listening with interest, Dean nodding along in amusement. 

“We’ll do as much as we can, Sammy. It depends on how much things cost.” 

They go to Fort McHenry first. The monument rests on the end of Locust Point, a waterfront footpath encircling the entire fort and running through it. It’s more than nerdy enough to get Sam excited. 

He jogs ahead of them constantly as they walk through the fort, pointing out old cannons mounted on steps and ramparts that he thinks may be original, and rattling off every fact he knows about the place. He moves on to the next thing that catches his eye before Dean and Cas can even catch up. 

They walk for a while, Dean and Cas letting Sam see everything he wants to, content to follow a few paces behind him. The weather is particularly nice, not nearly as hot as it had been in the previous weeks, and Dean lets his hand bump Cas’s between them as they stroll. Their fingers tangle just briefly a few times, casually. Sam hardly pays them any mind, yammering on about the war of 1812 and “The Star-Spangled Banner,” without ever really looking back to make sure they’re listening to him. 

Eventually, they make it to the water. The three of them stand where the footpath meets the short grassy hill that leads down to the bay, where an old woman throws bread to some ducks. 

Dean looks to Cas, who squints out over the water. He nudges him with his elbow. 

“Pretty different from the ocean, huh?” 

Cas nods. “Very different. This water is very… dirty.”

Despite his usual concern for pollution, Sam laughs. “Yeah, I’ll say. I don’t think you’d wanna swim in the harbor, Cas. You might get some kinda rash.” 

Dean shakes his head at that, smiling. “That’s probably true.” 

“Why is it like this?” Cas asks. 

Dean shrugs. “Baltimore’s a dirty place, and it surrounds the whole harbor.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam adds, “the city’s super industrial, and there are a ton of factories that sit right up against the water.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Cas says with a frown. 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “I don’t think there’s much living in these waters this close to the city. Except for maybe a bunch of jellyfish.” 

“Jellyfish are the least compelling creatures I know,” Cas deadpans, and it makes Sam laugh and Dean crack a smile. 

“Hey,” Dean says. “I got an idea.” 

They wander back to where the Impala was parked and clamber back in, and Dean makes for the Inner Harbor. He won’t tell Sam or Cas where they’re going, no matter how many times they ask. They find parking again and it isn’t until they walk around the corner on Pratt Street and the glass, triangular building comes into view that Sam gasps. 

“Are there trees inside that building?” Cas asks, intrigued. The entire top floor, several stories up and visible through the glass roof, looks like a rainforest. 

“That’s not even the part we’re going for, Cas,” Dean says as they make their way in that direction. “Wait ‘till you see the fish.”

“Fish?” Cas tilts his head in confusion. 

“It’s the National Aquarium!” Sam almost can’t even contain his excitement. 

It’s expensive to get in, but Dean hesitates only a second before passing over the cash for their tickets. It’ll be worth it. 

And man, is it worth it. As soon as they walk in, all three of them are taken aback with wonder. The place is incredible. The entirety of the inside of the building is dim, and everything has a blue hue to it. It sort of reminds Dean of the underside of the pillow fort from the night before, and the subdued, muted feeling of lying under the blankets. He focuses on that feeling. 

They wander further into the building, following the crowds to where people are overlooking a glass barrier. Curious, the three of them step up to see what everyone’s staring at. 

Cas gasps. 

“That is _so cool!_ ” Sam practically bounces in excitement, hands gripping the top of the glass as he leans over for a better view. 

“The ocean is inside,” Cas says in absolute awe. Dean can only gape at what they’re seeing. 

The space in front of them, stretching from their side of the building all the way to the other, is entirely water. In place of the floor, there is instead a coral reef. The very center goes down deep, probably to the floor below them, but around the edges near the glass that encloses it the water’s shallow, maybe just a couple of feet. 

And the _fish_. Schools of them swim by, colorful and glimmering, darting through the corals and around each other. 

Dean jumps, startled, as a large shape emerges from below them, drifting across the sandy bottom with a relaxed sort of glide. 

“Woah,” Dean murmurs. “What the hell is that? A manta ray?”

“No, that’s a stingray,” Cas clarifies, and Dean looks at him. 

“What’s the difference?”

“Stingrays are much smaller,” Cas explains. “They live on the ocean floor, like this one, while manta rays live in the open ocean.” 

“Yeah, and somethin’ about their mouths too, right?” Sam pipes up. 

Cas smiles. “Yes, you’re right, Sam,” he says, making Sam grin proudly. “A stingray’s mouth is on the underside of its body. A manta ray’s is on the front.” 

Dean listens to the two of them and can’t help but smile. He likes hearing them talk back and forth like this. He likes that Cas can make Sam smile, broadly and self-assured. 

They look a few minutes longer and then move on, further into the building. There’s so much to see that Cas bumps into someone while staring at the tanks that line the dark hallway. Dean chuckles and tugs Cas along as he mumbles an apology to the woman. 

The tanks that guide them down the hall are full of the most brightly-colored fish Dean has ever seen, and the corral practically glows. At the end of the hall, they step into the main section of the building and all three of them stop in their tracks, dumbfounded. 

“Holy shit,” Sam whispers. Dean nudges him absently with his elbow for the language but he can’t help but agree. 

There are walking ramps that guide visitors along, leading them up floor after floor. They criss-cross in the open space of the building, going progressively higher, and hanging from the ceiling above all of them is the biggest skeleton that Dean’s ever seen. 

“That’s a finback whale skeleton,” Cas says, voice hushed in wonder. “Wow…” 

Eventually they’re bumped out of the way of the people trying to get through and they shuffle forward, but as they get on the ramp that takes them to the next floor, none of them can help but keep glancing up at it. It kind of gives Dean the creeps, how huge it is, but mostly he’s just impressed. 

“Have you met one of those before?” Dean asks Cas. 

Cas nods. “Only once, a long time ago. They don’t live in this ocean.”

Dean’s gaze returns to it again. 

There’s a floor dedicated specifically to plants and animals common to the waters of Maryland, which Sam finds fascinating. There are blue crabs, and terrapins, and several weird-looking fish that Dean never knew Maryland had.

There’s a whole room of different frog species, and Cas thinks they’re great. He says he never knew frogs came in different colors, or that they could be poisonous, and he stares at a dart frog with that intrigued tilt to his head and Dean struggles to bite back a smile.

“C’mon,” Dean murmurs, nudging Cas’s shoulder. “Sammy’s running off again.” 

He turns to where he saw Sam disappear between the crowds, reaching a hand behind him towards Cas as he goes so as not to lose him, too. Cas hooks a finger absently over Dean’s pinky and follows. 

All things considered, Dean thinks he’s doing pretty well. He’s never been to an aquarium before, and he was worried about how he’d be, surrounded by water and feeling like he has the ocean on all sides. Though he’s got an uneasy sort of hum beneath his skin as they walk past tank after tank, he manages to keep it under control, shoved to the back of his mind where he can ignore it. 

There’s a room lined with tanks of different species of jellyfish, from tiny and translucent to absolutely enormous and luminescent. Sam and Dean are both enthralled, moving slowly from one tank to the next, staring at them with enrapturement. 

They stare until Cas huffs with impatience behind them, and despite Sam and Dean insisting that they’re awesome, tells them that “jellyfish are idiots, and not worth our time.” 

Rolling his eyes, Dean lets Cas lead them further along. 

There’s a group of kids crowded over a low glass wall, and Sam trots ahead to see what they’re looking at. He almost immediately turns back to Dean and Cas to excitedly beckon them faster.

“Check it out!”

Dean and Cas approach to see a long, narrow tank that winds snakelike along the wall. It only comes up to Dean’s waste and is open at the top so it’s easy to see down into. Just as they catch up to Sam, the kid leans over and reaches out as if to put his hand down into the water. 

“ _Woah_ , Sam, don’t - ” Dean catches Sam’s arm sharply before he can reach into the tank, his fingers tight around his brother’s wrist. What the hell is he thinking? 

“No, Dean, it’s okay,” Sam insists, gesturing to the people around them. “Look.”

Swallowing, Dean lets his gaze follow Sam’s. The kid’s right - everyone has their hands in the tank. A girl wearing a polo with the aquarium logo embroidered on the front is at the other end, patiently talking to two wide-eyed children and their smiling mother as they stick their arms down into the water. 

“They’re Atlantic stingrays,” Cas says over Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay, they’re harmless.” 

Slowly, Dean lets go of Sam’s wrist. 

There are a handful of the stingrays in the tank, which Dean gets a good look at for the first time. They glide along, some skimming along the bottom and others close to the surface, where people are reaching out to touch them. They’re small, maybe the size of a large pancake, and they don’t seem to mind at all as people skate their fingers over their backs as they swim by. 

One drifts towards them from the right, and as it gets close Sam glances over his shoulder once more at Dean, as though making sure it was okay, before leaning over the glass to reach for it. He laughs as he touches it. 

“It feels weird!” He says with a grin. 

Dean hovers behind him, watching warily with an uneasy twist in his gut. 

“Dean, you gotta try this,” Sam insists, but Dean stays where he is. “It’s all slimy.”

Cas edges forward on Dean’s other side, and Dean feels his hand brush low on his back, just briefly. 

“They don’t bite or anything,” Cas murmurs, bending to rest his elbow on the glass. “They’re rather docile.”

Dean watches as Cas reaches a hand into the water as the stingray passes by Sam and comes his way. 

“Hello,” Cas murmurs, brushing his knuckles gently over the stingray’s back. 

The change in the stingray’s demeanor is immediate. As soon as Cas skims his fingers over it, it hesitates. Rather than swim on by like it did with the other people, the stingray pauses, nudging itself up into Cas’s palm like a dog asking to be pet. 

Dean and Sam stare, eyes wide in wonder, as Cas and the stingray interact. Slowly, a few of the others seem to take interest as well and before long Cas has got three stingrays around his hand, bumping into one another to compete for his attention. 

“Cas, they love you,” Sam laughs. 

“I like stingrays,” Cas says with a smile. “I think they’re cute.” 

He turns his head and catches Dean’s eye, who shakes his head with amused disbelief. 

“You wanna try?” Cas asks him. 

Dean hesitates. They are sort of adorable. The way they nudge at Cas’s fingers, and how they’re taking an interest in Sam now, too, is rather endearing. He bites his lip for a moment, but then steps up against the glass. 

They are slimy. Dean makes a face when he first touches one, and Cas chuckles at him. He likes the first one that came up to them the best, and he lets his fingertips trail across its back. It doesn’t react much at all, happily letting him pet it. 

“I like him,” Dean murmurs after a minute. 

“Her,” Cas says. 

“I like _her_.” Dean corrects with a smile. 

“She likes you, too,” Cas looks at Dean softly, and Dean returns his gaze for a moment before turning back to the stingray, the smile still on his face. 

They wander through the aquarium for a few more hours, and it’s late afternoon when they finally leave. Cas and Sam chatter excitedly as they all make their way to the exit. 

Sam says his favorite part was the shark exhibit. It had been one of the last ones, as the ramps guided visitors back down towards the ground floor. The tank was built to surround them three-hundred and sixty degrees, so the sharks circled all the way around. Sam had pointed out that it seemed like the sharks were following them, spiraling lower and lower to keep level with them as they walked, and after that Dean couldn’t help but notice it, too. It made Dean’s stomach turn, just a little. It was like the sharks had their attention on the three of them. 

“Cas,” Dean had said, suddenly struck by a thought. “Do you think they know you’re here?”

Cas had just shrugged. “Probably.” 

Cas tells them his favorite was the frogs, if it weren’t obvious. They had twelve different species in the rainforest exhibit at the top floor, and Cas insisted on spotting every one within the plants before they could move on. Dean and Sam had gone along with it, though Sam had started to complain of being bored after a while. 

“Let him look, he’s having fun,” Dean had muttered to Sam with a nudge, while Cas peered under some foliage a few yards ahead of them. 

Sam had rolled his eyes. “You are so whipped.” 

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean grouched back, but he was pretending like he wasn’t blushing. 

As the three of them pass through the exit doors and back out into the sunshine, it isn’t the rainforest or the frogs or the sharks that Dean’s mind keeps returning to. It’s the coral reef exhibit that he can’t stop thinking about, and how the tank took up three quarters of the wall space in that giant circular room. He thinks about how the colors were almost blinding, they were so bright, and about how even though the glass stretched far above their heads and almost all the way around he still felt okay, not too anxious because he was too distracted being awed by it to be afraid. There was the hushed, soft way people were talking around them, as if unwilling to disrupt the quiet. It was dark in there, just the shapes of people, shadows moving in and out of one another, outshined by the brilliance that was behind the glass. 

Dean thinks of how it had felt in that room, with the ocean surrounding them but having no idea they were there, indifferent to their stares, until Castiel had stepped up to the glass. The moment is etched into Dean’s memory, and he keeps returning to it as they walk back to the car. 

Dean couldn’t stop staring, at the time. He was captured by the beauty of it, and couldn’t look away. There was Cas, standing completely still before the tank, face tipped up and eyes wide and so impossibly blue in that moment, the light rippling across his features and Dean had just stared. Cas’s profile was sharp, illuminated by the dancing colors he stood before. He had raised a hand and laid his palm against the glass, at shoulder height, and the ocean recognized him. 

Fish of all different colors and shades took an interest, swimming over in their schools to investigate, and Cas stood quietly as they came to peer out at him. As Dean watched, silent, he felt as though he was witnessing something private, intimate, the way Cas regarded the reef softly and it acknowledged him. The expression that came over Castiel’s face, in that moment as he stood with a shimmering halo of circling tropical fish, Dean didn’t recognize, but it gave him a familiar ache deep below his sternum. 

Dean stared, and he couldn’t help but think that it was the closest he’d ever get to seeing Castiel in his home. 

***

They debate between a few things to do next, but their decision is made for them when they see crowds of people wearing Orioles orange walking down the street towards Camden Yards. Neither Sam or Dean have ever been to a professional baseball game before, and Cas doesn’t even understand what the game is. Sam suggests that it would be a perfect learning opportunity for Cas on the ways of human pastimes. 

Dean buys the cheapest seats they have and the three of them follow the crowd through the doors of the stadium. 

“Can we get food?” Sam asks as Dean looks from his ticket to the sign on the wall for some direction as to finding their seats. 

“Yeah, we can do dinner here. If we get hungry later, though, we gotta eat the snacks in the car,” Dean says, and the two of them nod at him in understanding. 

They get hot dogs and sodas (Cas gets a water) from the concession stand and it’s just as they’ve found their seats and have shuffled past some people in the row and are settling into them that Castiel asks. 

“Dean,” he says, balancing his food on his lap as he gets situated to Dean’s left. 

“Yeah?” Dean shoves some napkins at his brother on his other side, taking a bite of his hot dog. 

“Am I your boyfriend?”

Dean chokes, and Sam snorts. It takes Dean a minute to recover from his coughing fit, his face burning and his eyes streaming. His voice comes out as a croak. 

“What?” 

“Am I your boyfriend?” Cas asks again, as casual as anything. Dean can hear Sam failing to control his snickering to his right, and he resists to urge to stomp on his foot. “Todd asked me if I was, and I wasn’t sure.”

“Who the hell is _Todd?_ ” 

“He’s a boy who’s staying at the motel.” Cas sips from his jumbo sized water. 

“The twerp who doesn’t rinse off before getting in the pool? And practically drools when he’s in the same room as Jo?” 

Cas tips his head to the side. “I assume so. He does seem to spend a lot of time in the lobby when she’s working.” 

Dean shakes his head, still trying to will his blush to fade. He refuses to look in Sam’s direction. 

“I said I didn’t know, but Sam told him I was,” Cas says. 

“Oh, he did?” When Dean shoots his brother a glare, Sam is looking the other way as if not even listening, feigning innocence. 

“Am I?” 

Cas looks at him quizzically, expression open and honest like always, and Dean clears his throat. 

“Well,” he says, keeping his voice low but aware that Sam can hear every word. He glances away from Cas’s face, unable to hold his gaze. “Do - do you want to be?”

“Of course,” Cas says, and Dean’s eyes snap back to him, and the sincerity in Cas’s gaze makes his insides twist faintly. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, too quickly. He clears his throat again, tries to shrug nonchalantly as if his heart wasn’t fluttering in his throat. “Yeah, I do. I want that.” 

Cas’s face breaks into a grin, and Dean can’t hold his own back when he looks at him. 

Dean and Sam explain to Cas the rules of baseball and point out which team they’re rooting for. He nods along studiously, but doesn’t have the usual serious expression that takes over his face when they’re teaching him something about humans. He’s got a twist to his mouth like he’s biting back a smile, and Dean’s not even sure if he’s listening to what Sam’s telling him. It probably has something to do with the way that Dean had made a point of reaching over, obvious as anything, to thread their fingers, and that their hands lay tangled atop Cas’s thigh. 

More than the game, Cas loves watching the people in the crowd who show up on the Jumbotron, and the way they laugh and wave when they notice the camera on them. 

When Sam gasps and shouts giddily, elbowing Dean and pointing up at the screen, Dean turns to see themselves, sitting impossibly close in the stadium seats and looking like they belong next to one another. A large, animated heart surrounds the two of them on the screen, and Dean knows what it is before Sam shouts it with a laugh. 

“You guys, Kiss Cam!”

Dean doesn’t hesitate. He turns to Cas, who’s waving at the camera with a grin, and slides a hand around his jaw. He tips Cas’s face towards his own and leans in without a second thought, kissing him on the mouth for the whole stadium to see. 

Cas makes a pleasantly surprised noise in his throat but kisses back immediately, his hand falling to Dean’s wrist as the crowds erupt in cheers. He can feel Cas grinning against his mouth.

Dean keeps an arm casually draped over the back of Cas’s seat for the rest of the game. None of them care when the Orioles lose, least of all Cas and Dean, who walk out of the stadium hand-in-hand and smiling. 

***

“Dean,” Sam whines, and his voice sounds especially shrill. Dean grits his teeth and ignores him. 

“ _Dean_.” He gripes louder, and they’re in a tunnel and the sound reverberates against the walls. There’s sunshine ahead, and Dean strides for it. 

“Yeah.” Dean keeps his eyes forward, his pace fast and his steps long. 

“How much farther?” Dean hears Sam’s sneakers slap the concrete as he jogs a little to keep up. His footsteps sound different, somehow - too light. Though he pauses on this thought a moment, Dean ultimately shoves it to the back of his mind. 

“Not much.” 

Sam huffs. “My feet hurt.” 

“We’re almost there.” 

“Almost _where?_ ” 

Dean doesn’t answer that. What was he gonna say? Where are they going? Dean suddenly feels a pang of fresh worry, sharp through the uneasiness that’s already got his stomach in knots and his chest tight. He feels like he’s missing something, something he should be remembering. 

“Dean?” 

“ _What_ , Sam?” Dean snaps, and they’re in an alley and the stars twinkle in the clear sky above them and he almost recognizes it. 

“Can I hold your hand?” 

And that makes Dean falter. He almost forgets about how tense he is with apprehension, and feels guilt flood his gut instead. He finally turns to look at Sam, and doesn’t find him where he expected to at shoulder height. Dean looks down, and blinks. He’s standing still in the middle of a rainy suburban street and before him is his brother at six years old, whose hair is shaggy and sneakers worn and his coat has a broken zipper and he barely passes Dean’s ribs in height. 

Dean swallows. 

“Yeah, Sammy,” he says. “You can hold my hand.”

Sam smiles and takes Dean’s hand, and Dean uses his grip on the kid to make him keep up as they continue. 

They’re in a grassy backyard and there’s a pebbled path that Dean knows well, but it leads back into some trees to a shabby building that doesn’t belong. Dean hesitates, disconcerted, but only for a moment. 

He sets Sammy up on the little loveseat. It doesn’t have cushions, and the arm has a chunk out of it that might’ve been from rats, but it’s not too uncomfortable and it’s the reason Dean picked this place. It’s damp and dark, but the roof only leaks in the one corner and it’s not far from the elementary school or the motel. 

“Is mom on her way?” 

Dean spins to look at Sam. He’s curled up in his mound of purloined motel blankets, and he’s six years old and his eyes are huge and trusting in the dark. 

“What did you say?” 

“To tuck me in. Is mom on her way to tuck me in?” 

Dean swallows. Something doesn’t feel right. His skin crawls, and the hair on the back of his neck prickles aggressively. 

“Do you hear that?” Dean goes to the window. 

He can’t tell if it’s twilight or dawn, but there’s a strange lapping sound and he squints out through the grimy pane. 

Dean leaps back from the window with a shout, his heart hammering. 

How is that possible? The entire shed is surrounded by water, and it’s rising fast, slapping angrily against the warped clapboard siding. 

Sam coughs behind him, a wet noise that’s gotten worse the past few days and is just another thing Dean’s had to worry about. His stomach clenches painfully.

“Beanie?” 

Dean turns around to find that water has seeped into the shed from the shoddy foundation, and puddles are forming around the couch where Sam sits. 

“It’s okay, Sammy.” But Dean’s voice wavers. 

“Beanie, my life jacket won’t zip.” 

Fuck. _Fuck_. Dean feels the panic really start to set in, and he tears around the room looking for something to plug the holes with. 

The water’s up to his waist and it’s slowing him down and his lungs are seizing and it’s all he can think about, leaning a palm against the wall and trying to draw in air. 

Shit - 

“Sammy - ” 

He whips around with a splash but Sam is gone, and the couch is gone. It’s an empty shed filling with water, rising steadily, up to his belly button now. 

“ _Sam!_ ” 

But Sam’s not here, and Dean isn’t sure if he ever was. 

“Fuck, no - ”

Dean struggles to swallow around his heart which beats in his throat, choking him. He has to get out. He has to get out, or he’s going to drown. 

He has to get out, but he can’t find the door. Each wall looks the same and he’s trying to keep his head above water, tipping his face upward but still getting a mouthful of it. 

It’s salty, and he chokes. 

“Help - _help_ , please - ”

He’s alone in this shed and he’s going to drown. Spluttering, Dean thrashes to keep himself afloat but the more he struggles the more he panics, and the more he panics the more water he inhales into his lungs and he thinks about how he’s all alone and he’s drowning - 

Underwater, Dean pounds the walls and yells, but all that comes out are bubbles and he’s using up his oxygen. He thumps on the window with his fist. His lungs are burning. 

When he sees the eyes on the other side of the glass, he’s not surprised. 

Of course. 

It’s here, like always. Dean stills. 

The eyes stare at him, as wide as the ocean and just as deep, making Dean feel like he’s in a tank. They peer at him, almost curious, a child at the aquarium.

Dean can’t breathe. There are fathomless blue eyes and a glowing light and nothing else, and Dean is drowning. It lifts a hand, and raises it to rest against Dean’s palm with the glass between them, and Dean wants to flinch away but he can’t move. 

There’s water in his lungs. The eyes blink. 

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale. He pulls in oxygen and it’s such a relief that it aches. 

Flat on his back, Dean gets his bearings. He stares up at the ceiling and he breathes - he’s got sweat beading on his forehead, his muscles tense, and Sam is sprawled across the bed, half on top of him. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Dean gently scooches out from under his brother so as not to wake him and sits up at the edge of the bed. 

He swallows and rubs his eyes, his heart rate slowing.

The motel room is dark, and the digital clock that sits on the only nightstand reads 2:48. Dean presses his thumb into his side sharply, willing his stomach to stop twisting. He glances back at Sam, who sleeps soundly, before slipping from the bed. 

Dean keeps the light off in the bathroom so it doesn’t disturb his brother and he splashes cold water on his face. Even in the dark, he can just make out his reflection in the cloudy mirror when he straightens up. His eyes look large and owlish and they stare back at him in a way that makes the hairs on his arms prickle. Uneasy, he shakes off the odd, familiar feeling of deja-vu and looks away. He leaves the bathroom. 

Dean stands in front of the bed and surveys Sam sleeping quietly for a long moment. For some reason, standing there, he thinks of sharing a cushion-less loveseat, his own legs the only pair too long for it. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, but he remembers a chunk missing from the arm that at the time he’d prayed wasn’t from rats. He shoves the unexpected memory away. 

“Sammy?” he whispers. Nothing. 

Swiping the key off the nightstand silently, Dean gives Sam one more glance before slipping out the door. He locks it behind him carefully before twisting the knob and giving the door a shove to test it. Satisfied, he slips the key in the pocket of his sweatpants. 

The asphalt of the parking lot is cool under his bare feet as he passes Baby and heads towards the far side. The night is relatively clear and the moon bright, and he can see it reflecting placidly on the water ahead of him. There’s a short strip of grass at the end of the parking lot, and then the dock.

Dean glances behind him once to make sure that the door to the motel room is still clearly in his sight before he steps onto the wood and pads towards the end. He keeps his feet light, careful of splinters. 

He crouches at the edge, at the farthest point into the water. 

“Cas?” he whispers. 

When he gets no response, Dean chews his lip. 

“Castiel?” he repeats, louder. 

There’s a splash from his right and Dean twists just in time to see a face emerging from the water. Though he knew it was coming, and that it’s only Cas, Dean still startles when Cas breaks the surface. He jolts a little, a hand going out to steady himself on the planks of the dock, and his heart kicks up in his ears. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says with a smile. 

“Yeah, hey, Cas,” Dean says, clearing his throat. He turns all the way to face him as Cas reaches out to pull himself closer by the edge of the dock. 

Dean must’ve let his disquietness show on his face because Cas’s eyebrows pull together in a frown. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, fine,” Dean says, trying to school his expression into something more impassive. 

Castiel rests his forearms on the wood. His hair is spiky with water, the moonlight gleaming across his bare shoulders, and Dean doesn’t know why but it makes him uneasy to meet his gaze. 

Dean pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “Did I wake you up?”

“It’s alright,” Cas murmurs with a soft smile, regarding Dean from beneath his lashes. “Would you like to put your feet in?” 

Stomach turning, Dean swallows. He shakes his head without saying anything, and inadvertently tightens his arms around himself. 

“Okay,” Cas says carefully, his frown slowly returning. Dean looks away. 

“Dean.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you have a nightmare?” 

Dean lets his eyes trail back to Cas’s, wide with concern and reflecting the light of the moon. He clears his throat. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “How’s the water?” 

Cas hesitates as if unwilling to let the change of subject slide, surveying Dean’s face. 

“It’s fine,” he says eventually. “Much cleaner than the water in the harbor.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I bet. Is it nice to have all that space?” 

“Yes, it is. It’s been a long time since I was able to swim like this.” As if to emphasize his point, Cas curls his tail, and it comes out of the water behind him with a splash. Dean watches it drip before it slaps back down into the water. He stares at the spot where it disappeared. 

“Dean.” 

“Huh?” Dean snaps his eyes back to Cas’s face. 

“I said, what’s this town called, again?” 

“Oh,” Dean clears his throat. “Sorry. It’s, uh, it’s called Havre de Grace.”

“Hmm,” Cas murmurs, and though he’s still scrutinizing Dean with a slight worried crease between his eyebrows, his mouth turns up in one corner. “I love how it sounds when you say that.” 

Dean’s face warms a bit and he lets out a chuckle in spite of himself. “Yeah?”

Cas nods, his smile widening. 

They’d driven about an hour further north after the Orioles game, to the very top of the bay where they’d decided to stay for the night. Havre de Grace is a small port town surrounded by water, making it a perfect place for Cas to stay the night, with a cheap motel nearby for Dean and Sam. 

“I’m interested to see what the town looks like in the daytime,” Cas says. Dean watches as Cas draws patterns on the planks of the docks with a wet fingertip. The water dries almost too fast for the swirls he creates to be visible. “It seems quaint.” 

Dean snorts. “Yeah, okay, grandma,” he ribs, and though Cas shoots him a look he doesn’t seem bothered. 

“Well, we can walk around for a bit in the morning,” Dean says. “If you want.” 

Cas nods. “Sure, I’d like that.” 

Their eyes meet for a long moment. Dean tries to shove away the last tendrils of uneasiness that curl in the back of his brain.

“So, what’s the next stop on our road trip?” Cas asks. Dean’s heart sinks. 

“Oh,” Dean says, dropping his gaze to his feet. He rubs a palm over the back of his neck. “About that…” 

Cas tips his head to the side with a frown. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, it’s just - ” He clears his throat. “Well, my dad called, when me and Sammy were checking into the motel. Uh, apparently Rufus is sick, so he put me on the night shift for tomorrow night.”

“So we have to go back.” 

Dean finally lifts his eyes back to Cas’s, who to his credit does a pretty good job of hiding his disappointment. Even so, Dean’s stomach twists with guilt. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “I’ve gotta be back by the afternoon.”

Cas nods in understanding. “That’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Cas says with a shake of his head. “I understand.” 

“Yeah, well, Sam pitched a fit,” Dean says with a shrug. He finally releases his grip of his knees with his arms, crossing his legs in front of him and resting his elbows on his thighs.

“He wants you say no to your father,” Cas says, and it isn’t a question. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “He doesn’t get it, though. I mean, I’m - I’m my dad’s go-to guy, you know? He depends on me to be there for him, so I gotta - I gotta be there.” 

“Forever?” Cas asks evenly, and Dean frowns. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Cas says, and he looks up at Dean almost sheepishly. “You can’t be his ‘go-to guy’ forever, can you?”

Understanding, Dean scoffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Cas.” 

“Sam explained to me about college.”

Dean cuts his eyes to Cas sharply. His insides squeeze painfully and he finds himself feeling angry all of a sudden. 

“Why, you thinking about going?” he jokes, but it comes out harsh and accusatory. Cas doesn’t flinch. 

“Are _you?_ ” 

There’s a long moment where Dean glares at Castiel, his breath coming fast through his nose. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean says again. “And I’m not having this conversation with you, of all people.” 

Cas flinches at that and regards Dean with a soft look, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes Dean have to look away. 

“Okay,” Cas says finally. “I apologize for mentioning it.” 

“Don’t - ” Dean puffs his breath out in an exasperated sigh, trying to tamp down his irritation. “Quit apologizing, Cas. Sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to be a dick.” 

“It’s alright.” 

Dean scrubs a hand roughly through his hair. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I won’t bring it up again.” 

“Okay.” 

Dean can feel Cas’s eyes boring holes through him as he fiddles with a small tear in his sweatpants over his knee. He thinks about his dad. He thinks about Cas’s family. He thinks about answering to others, and meeting expectations, and doing as they’re told. 

Without warning, Dean reaches out and grasps one of Cas’s hands, squeezing it. He meets his eye. 

“I’m gonna go back in,” he says quietly. “I don’t wanna leave Sammy too long.” 

“Alright,” Cas says with a nod. They regard one another a moment longer. Dean squeezes his hand again. They’re okay. 

“I had fun today,” Dean says. He quirks up his mouth into a half smile. 

“I had fun, too,” says Cas, eyes softening in the moonlight. “It felt like an adventure.” 

“Yeah. It did, huh?” 

“Just us.” 

Dean feels his own smile twist into something else, something wistful and almost sorrowful. His stomach feels tight. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Just us.” 

He kisses Castiel before going back inside, and his lips are warm and soft against his own. He trails his fingers across the hood of the Impala on his way past her, but the cool metal on his fingertips doesn’t erase the feeling of Cas’s hand leaving his as he’d stood up to walk away.


	10. fireworks and wheat fields

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loong chapter. Would love to hear what you all think in the comments! 
> 
> (Also, what the heck, we're over 100k words!)

Dean’s flat on his back with his eyes closed against the sun, rays beating down on him with almost-July earnest. It feels good, the warm sand under him and the soft breeze making his hair tickle over his forehead. Castiel’s fingers dance over the inside of his wrist, where Dean has his palm turned up. 

He breathes, and he feels quiet. 

His one arm, the one that Cas has, is cool compared to the rest of him, the only part of his body under the shade of the umbrella. They had taken it from the Bunker and it now lays in the sand on its side with Cas curled beneath its shade, creating a wall between them and the other beach-goers. It’s a crowded day, but in the seclusion of their little hideaway it almost doesn’t feel like it. Dean’s amulet is warm where it rests against his sternum. 

“How are you not hot?” Cas mutters.

“Sun feels good,” Dean replies without opening his eyes. 

Cas’s fingertips skim from Dean’s wrist to his hand, where they play over the lines of his palm - _life, head, heart_ \- and Dean only knows that because Cas dragged him over to Missouri’s the other day to listen to her babble. He hears Cas sigh softly, and Dean doesn’t remember feeling this relaxed in a long time. Cas tugs absently at his fingers. 

Dean dozes, the sounds of the tide crashing and kids yelling and adults idly conversing creating a comforting sort of white noise. He hadn’t gotten the chance to nap as long as he would’ve liked after working the night shift, because the weather was beautiful and “it’s _Saturday_ ,” according to Sam, and the beach was apparently waiting for them. He’d never complain about getting out of bed, though, if it always meant it was to come and do this. 

Cas picks Dean’s hand up, bending his arm at the elbow. He turns his wrist to slide his hand into Dean’s, matching their fingers so they’re palm-to-palm. Turning his head, Dean squints his eyes open. His palm is slightly larger but Cas’s fingers are longer, stretching just a bit past Dean’s. 

After a moment, Cas tangles their fingers. He pulls Dean’s hand towards himself, and their eyes meet as Cas presses his lips to Dean’s knuckles, then again. Dean’s mouth stretches into a soft smile. He lets his eyes drift shut again. 

“Can I kiss your sand sprinkles?” Cas murmurs.

Dean hums.

There’s a shift in the sand, a quiet happy sound from in Cas’s throat, and then Dean feels him press a kiss to the growing smattering of freckles on his shoulder. His lips are cool on Dean’s hot skin. Cas kisses him again, and then once more.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Cas murmurs into his shoulder. 

Dean’s eyes snap open to find Cas’s there, bright blue and close, and his stomach twists faintly at the words and his mouth falls open to say something just before they’re interrupted. 

“Gross, guys, get a room.” Sam says as he comes ambling up, but his tone is light. He kicks sand carelessly onto Dean as he tromps over, bucket swinging from his hand. 

“Watch it, bitch, you’re getting sand everywhere,” Dean grouches, hoping his blush just looks like sunburn. Cas rolls back into his own space, but their hands linger on one another as they pull away. 

“Sorry,” Sam says, not sounding particularly sorry at all, as he plops down in the sand beside them. 

“Did you catch any?” Cas asks with a nod at the bucket. 

“Yeah, a bunch, actually.” 

Sam sets the bucket down between them, and Cas and Dean both sit up to take a look. Dean feels sand trickle from his hair and down the back of his neck. 

“Check it out,” Sam says, scooping his hand through the wet sand. There’s movement in the moist clump in his palm as more than one sandcrab tries to dig itself back below the surface. “Here.” 

Dean holds his hand out so Sam can pass a little crab to him. It scuttles around, and it tickles as it tries to burrow into his palm. 

“Cas, you wanna hold one?” Sam makes to hand one over. 

“Oh, that’s probably not a good idea,” Cas says. “They don’t like us.” 

Sam frowns, and Dean looks up at him. 

“They don’t like you?” Dean asks. 

“We’re predators to them,” Cas says simply. 

“Like… you eat them?” Sam asks slowly. 

“Yes.” 

Dean and Sam stare at him a moment before they both pull disgusted faces. 

“Ew, Cas.” 

“ _Gross_.” 

Cas justs shrugs. “They’re delicious, actually.” 

Dean tips his crab back into the bucket, where it scurries back underneath the sand, and brushes his hands together. Sam does the same. 

“Can I leave this here and go in the water?” Sam asks, looking to Dean.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean nods. “Just don’t - ”

“ - go far, yeah, I gotcha.” 

Dean rolls his eyes at his brother’s sass and watches the kid lope back down the beach to the shoreline. 

“He’s a pain in my ass,” Dean grouches as he leans back on his elbows, making Cas chuckle. In his peripheral vision, Cas shuffles back under the shade of the umbrella. 

“So,” Dean says when Sam starts splashing around and Dean’s sure he isn’t going too far in. He figures this is the time to bring it up, though it makes an ache blossom under his ribs when he thinks about it. He tips his head towards Cas, hesitating a moment before saying, “First day of work tomorrow. How you feelin’?” 

It was in the car on the way back from their road trip a few days ago that Cas had announced, out of nowhere, that he was going to get a job. Sam had been excited for him, told him that he thought it was a cool idea. Dean had frowned.

“A job? Why?” 

“I would like to help out more,” Cas had said with a shrug. “You pay for a lot of things, and I want to contribute.” 

“Oh,” is all Dean had said, eyes on the road ahead of them. 

And so it was Friday morning that Cas had come back from a walk through town to announce that he’d found a job and he starts on Sunday. 

“I’m feeling good,” Cas says, but he frowns. “I hope I do things properly. The owner of the store seemed very serious.”

“Nah, don’t be intimidated by him, Cas,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “Frank Devereaux's a bit of a kook. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard about him. Kind of crazy, keeps to himself and works in his pet store and that’s it. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

Cas hums, a small crease between his eyebrows.

“It’s pretty lucky you found him, actually,” Dean adds, careful to keep his tone encouraging. “‘Cuz apparently he doesn’t trust the government or somethin’. So he won’t ask you for any paperwork, and he’ll probably pay you in cash.” 

Cas tilts his head, confused. “Paperwork?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. “It’s just stupid human stuff.” 

“Alright,” Cas says, but he still looks a bit concerned. 

“Hey,” Dean says, nudging at his leg with his knee and offering him a smile that he hopes looks reassuring. “You’ll do great.” 

“I hope so.” 

***

Dean drops Cas off at work the next morning. Though Cas had insisted that he could walk the eight blocks to the pet store, Dean had waved him off and told him to get in the car. The whole way there, Dean’s trying to figure out what he’s going to do for the day with Cas not around. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Dean says as he pulls the Impala up outside the store. “You’re gonna do fine.” 

“Alright,” Cas says, dropping his hand from where he was biting anxiously at his thumbnail. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course. You’ve got my cell number still?” 

Patting the front pocket of his jeans, Cas nods. 

“Okay. Call me when you need to be picked up.”

Cas nods again, his eyes trailing to the front of the pet store. Dean sees him swallow. 

“Hey,” Dean says.

Tearing his eyes away from the door, Cas turns back to Dean. 

“C’mere.”

At that, Cas’s expression softens. He shoulders sag just slightly as a bit of tension leaves him, and his mouth turns up in one corner. He leans into Dean. 

Hand sliding around the side of Cas’s neck, Dean kisses him softly. It’s not more than a peck but it’s gentle and it lingers, Dean trying to convey comfort with the gesture. 

“Call me when you need picked up,” Dean says again when they pull away, his voice quiet. 

“Okay,” Cas says. Dean squeezes his hand once before Cas opens the door and gets out of the car. 

After Cas goes in, Dean sits in the Impala for a long moment, watching through the glass. He watches until Cas moves further into the store and he can’t see him from outside. 

Dean sighs. He puts the car into gear and pulls away, trying to think of what he’s going to do with the rest of his day. 

With nothing better in mind, he goes back to the Bunker, where he finds Sam rifling through the junk drawer in the kitchen. 

Frowning, Dean tosses his keys in the dish and leans in the doorway. 

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for stamps,” Sam says without lifting his head. 

“For what?” Dean crosses his arms, propping his shoulder on the jamb.

“I have to send in the forms and stuff for my camp.” He shuts the drawer with a huff.

“Yeah, I don’t think we have any, dude. I’m sure Ellen’s got some stashed in the lobby somewhere.”

Sam nods, hair flopping over his forehead. “Okay. I have to go up there and print the stuff anyway.” He finally turns to face Dean, and looks him up and down. “So, did you drop Cas off?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He tightens his arms across his chest. 

“Hmm,” Sam says, and his tone is speculative and knowing and just lofty enough that Dean can’t ignore it. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asks, suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing,” Sam says, but the way he shrugs says otherwise. 

Dean drops his arms to his sides. “Quit bein’ a bitch, _what_ , Sam?” 

“Nothing. I was just wondering why you’ve been so weird about Cas getting a job, that’s all,” he says, looking right at Dean.

Dean stares at him for a couple beats. “I’m not being weird about it.” 

Sam rolls his eyes, pushing past Dean and out of the kitchen. Dean follows the kid down the hall to his room. 

“I’m not being weird,” Dean repeats, insistent. 

“You so are,” Sam says, crouching by his bed to tug on his shoes. “It’s like you’re not even excited for him. You haven’t been since he said he wanted one.” 

“That’s not true,” Dean says with a scowl, but the blunt look that Sam levels at him when he straightens up shuts him down. He sighs.

Sam raises an eyebrow. 

Chewing his lip, Dean’s eyes jump away from Sam’s gaze. God, this is stupid - this is stupid and he feels stupid but his stomach has been in knots for days over this. “I don’t know, I guess I just… don’t understand how it makes sense that he gets one.” 

When Dean doesn’t elaborate, Sam just waits patiently. Jesus, this kid’s got him so figured out it’s obnoxious, Dean and his need to fill silence. Though he tries to hold out, it’s only a few moments before Dean can’t take it. 

“You know, a job is, like… long term.” 

Dean swallows. He’s been trying to keep this whole thing to the back of his mind since Cas announced it. There’s been something rising in him, beneath the aching in his gut, something that’s close to bubbling up and it feels dangerous, it feels deadly, and it feels a lot like hope. 

And then Sam shrugs, nonchalant, and he says the exact thing Dean had been praying for him to say so he didn’t have to be the one to voice it, but at the same time what he was dreading from his very core. And he was right to dread it because as soon as the words are out of Sam’s mouth that feeling swells over like the inexorable tide and into his throat so he loses his breath and there’s no pushing it back now. 

“Maybe he’s planning on sticking around.” 

Dean can’t say anything to that, with an ocean’s worth of longing in his throat, so he just nods. Sam smiles at him and brushes by to go find his stamps, and Dean stands there in the doorway for several minutes. 

_Maybe he’s planning on sticking around._

Swallowing past everything inside him, Dean tries to shake himself of his thoughts. He wanders through to empty apartment to the living room, where he stands and wonders what he should do with himself. Cleaning is the only thing that comes to mind, his thoughts still swirling.

Sam finally thought it was time to take his fort down, so at least all the blankets and pillows are back where they belong. Dean vacuums, and wipes down the counters in the kitchen, and then goes to his own room to straighten up.

For a moment he stands and looks at his mattress, where the covers are rumpled and Shelley the dolphin lays on Cas’s side of the bed, further from the wall. Before he can stop himself, Dean is thinking about the night before, and the bit of fooling around he and Cas had done. He thinks about Cas’s spit-slippery fingers, and when Cas had put his mouth around him, and he thinks of the weight of Cas’s cock in his hand and on his tongue. He thinks about the little mark he sucked into Cas’s shoulder by accident.

 _Maybe he’s planning on sticking around._

Dean feels his mouth threaten to stretch into a grin, one that’s almost giddy with the very thought, and he mentally shakes himself from the distracting memories. He gets back to work, making his bed and throwing the few things on the floor into the hamper. 

After only an hour he gets the entire apartment clean, so he wanders to the lobby. 

He finds both Sam and Jo behind the front desk. 

“Hey,” Dean says as he pushes through the half-door. 

“‘Sup,” Jo nods from her perch on one of the spinny chairs. Sam’s on the other one, eyes glued to the desktop computer. 

“How’s it going?” Dean asks, leaning a hip against the edge of the desk. 

“Sam’s signing up for some camp,” Jo says with a shrug. “It’s a slow day.” 

Dean hangs at the front desk a while, helping Sam fill out his forms and goofing around with Jo. It sure is a slow day - there’s a couple that checks out around eleven, but other than that it’s pretty quiet. When his phone rings in his pocket around noon, Dean’s relieved. 

“Hello?”

“Dean!” 

Flinching, Dean pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment. “You don’t have to yell, Cas. I can hear you.”

“I apologize,” Castiel says, lowering his voice. “Is this better?” 

“Yeah, that’s good.” Dean purses his lips to keep from smiling, but when he glances up it’s to find Sam and Jo both smirking at him. He shoots them a glare and turns his back to them, ignoring their snickers. “Do you need to be picked up?”

“No, not yet. I’m on a break. But I wanted to call you.” 

“How’s it going?”

“Dean, it’s great! There are so many animals here. I met a ferret, Dean. It was a strangest looking thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, I can’t believe it doesn’t have back problems, it was so long with these short legs - ”

He’s patient as Cas chatters on, and while Dean shakes his head he can’t help but feel a certain fondness as he listens.

“ - called hamsters, I think, and there are mice, too, but I don’t think those are as cute - ”

“No, mice are gross.”

“ - and he has quite an assortment of fish, both fresh and saltwater, and they’re actually all doing fairly well. I gave him a few suggestions for the ones that were feeling frustrated, and he said he’ll look into it.”

Cas pauses to take a breath.

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Dean says with a smile, and he means it. 

“I haven’t even told you the best part, Dean.”

“What?”

“Guess what?” Cas doesn’t wait for Dean to guess. “There’s a _cat_ that lives here. She’s beautiful, but she doesn’t have a name because Frank says she’s up for adoption, but he said she’s been here six months already. Which I think is a long time to have no name. But she’s truly very beautiful and she _chirps_ , Dean, isn’t that great? When I pet her behind her ears she _chirps_.”

Dean chuckles. “She sounds cute. But you better not name her.”

“Why not?” He can hear the frown in Cas’s voice. 

“Because then you’ll get attached to her. And then when she gets adopted you’ll be even more sad to see her leave.”

“Hmm,” Cas says. “I guess.” 

Dean hears a voice on Cas’s side of the line, and Cas’s muffled reply. 

“Dean?”

“I’m here.”

“My break is over, so I have to go.” 

“Okay,” Dean bites his lip, trying to keep his affectionate smile at bay. “Have fun, Dr. Dolittle.” 

“Who?”

“Nevermind. Call me when you need a ride.”

“Okay. Good-bye, Dean.” 

Dean must still be wearing a ridiculous, dopey smile as he hangs up because he turns around to see both Sam and Jo grinning. 

“Shut up,” Dean grouches, and they laugh at him. 

It’s about two o’clock when Dean picks Cas up from work. He climbs into the car with a grin and leans over to give Dean a peck on the cheek. 

Cas tells Dean about the store, and about Frank, and about the animals he saw. He explains that he started the day working at the cash register, but that according to Frank his “people skills” are “rusty” (paired with air quotes, which make Dean’s eyebrows go up), so he spent the rest of the day taking care of the animals. Cas didn’t mind, though, of course. He thought it was great. 

“Oh, also,” Cas says as they pull up outside the apartment. Dean puts the Impala in park and turns to him. 

“I named the cat.” 

Rolling his eyes with an amused shake of his head, Dean follows Cas from the car. 

***

Dean doesn’t hear from John until midday on Monday. He actually misses the call, because he goes on a run and leaves his phone at the apartment. There are thunderstorms in the forecast for the next couple of days, so he figured they should get one in while the sun was out. 

His breath coming at a comfortable, steady rhythm, Dean focuses on the sound of two pairs of feet slapping the concrete. He likes the sound of his footfalls mixing with Cas’s as they run side by side along Coastal Highway. Cars and buses pass, and every few blocks they have to dodge around a family with armfuls of beach bags and chairs, but Dean’s come to prefer this over running alone. 

“How you doin’, Cas?” Dean puffs. 

“I’m good,” Cas replies, nodding in Dean’s peripheral vision. 

It’s the third or so time that Cas has come running with him, and so far he hasn’t had any trouble keeping up. His legs get tired but he hardly gets out of breath, which Dean secretly finds annoying. Though he guesses it’s no surprise that the guy’s pretty fit, Dean’s mentally noted once or twice that when his legs get stronger Cas might be faster than him, which he only admits to himself grudgingly. 

They approach the end of the inlet and turn left onto Somerset, towards the boardwalk and Jolly Rodgers.

“Race you to the end of the pier,” Dean says, and doesn’t give any more warning than that before he takes off sprinting. He vaguely hears Cas make a noise of protest behind him and he laughs as he speeds off. 

The two of them have to skirt around a lot more people on the boardwalk, and though they get a few glares and indignant shouts they ignore them, too focused on outrunning one another. They hit the pier together and really kick it into gear, their elbows bumping as they jostle each other and laugh. They’re sprinting flat-out and Dean hopes he doesn’t fall on his face but he pushes himself faster, ignoring the burn in his calves. 

The end of the pier is coming up fast and neither of them are slowing as the railing gets closer and closer. Dean throws his hands out to catch himself on it and they both skid to a stop, crashing into the end at the same time. It almost hurts, but the both of them are laughing as they push away from the railing. 

“I definitely won,” Cas pants, and Dean punches him in the shoulder with a loud laugh. 

“You’re full of shit, you did not,” Dean argues with a grin as he tries to catch his breath. He leans his hands on his knees and breathes heavily, his heart pounding in his ears. He does get some satisfaction seeing that Cas isn’t breathing much easier. 

They walk a lap or two around the end of the dock as their heart rates come down. When they’re more or less recovered, the two of them settle at the railing on the end to look out at the water, shoulder to shoulder. 

“Nice day,” Dean says, his breathing finally back to normal. Cas hums beside him. “How are your legs?”

“They feel like seaweed,” Cas says, and Dean smiles broadly, nudging him playfully with his shoulder. 

“They’ll probably be sore tomorrow.”

“They can’t possibly be as sore as they were the day after the first time I ran with you,” Cas says, making Dean chuckle at the memory. Cas could barely walk after the first time, and he was grumpy about it the whole day. 

“That’s true.”

Dean and Cas stay on the pier looking east out over the ocean for a few more minutes, just standing quietly in the salty breeze. Seagulls call overhead, looking for dropped French fries, and tourists bustle around them. 

“Well,” Dean says eventually with a sigh. “You ready to head back?”

Cas nods. 

As they push off the railing and turn back towards the way they came, Dean says, “Hey, maybe we could come back down here in the next couple days. Take Sam to the arcade. You haven’t played Speed of Light in a while.” 

Cas doesn’t answer. 

“You want to?” Dean turns to Cas next to him. His stomach twists. “Cas?” 

Cas is standing stock still, staring wide-eyed down the pier. His face has completely drained of color, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. When Dean follows his gaze down the dock, he doesn’t see anything unusual - just tourists, a few other joggers, kids in strollers. 

“Cas? Everything okay?” Dean’s guts are in knots and his eyebrows pull down in concern. He reaches for Cas’s elbow.

Cas suddenly turns to him, and his face splits into a smile. “Yes,” he says, but it comes several beats too late and Dean doesn’t believe him for a second. 

“What were you looking at?” Dean glances around them again but still sees nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Nothing,” Cas says with a shake of his head, that unconvincing smile still plastered on. 

“Okay,” Dean says slowly, scrutinizing him. “C’mon. We’ll take it slow back to the bunker.” 

They pick up a jog again, and Dean doesn’t miss the way the smile drops from Cas’s face as soon as he turns away. He thinks the guy looks worried. 

Castiel seems to be acting normal again by the time they get back to the Bunker, so Dean doesn’t push the matter. He mostly forgets about the entire thing when he picks up his phone from the kitchen table while Cas chugs a glass of water at the sink and sees that he has a missed call from his dad. 

“Shit,” he mutters, before thumbing open his phone and tapping John’s contact. 

It only rings a couple times. 

“Dean.”

“Dad, hey. Sorry, I was on a run, I didn’t bring my phone.”

“It’s alright, kiddo,” his dad says. Dean frowns. “I was just checking in. Things okay there?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, things are good.” 

“Did Sam get his camp stuff mailed off? He got the check I left him?” 

Dean glances at Cas, who’s watching him curiously. He shifts from one foot to the other. “Yeah, he did.” 

“And you guys still good on groceries?” 

“Um,” Dean says, just a little caught off guard by his dad’s behavior. As much as he really, really doesn’t want to, Dean wonders who he’s with. 

“Listen, I’ve got fifty bucks stashed in my top drawer. Take that for groceries, okay?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Dean replies, but that raises a new question. He hesitates a moment before he asks, “So, when are you coming back?” 

“Not ‘till Friday, I think.” 

Friday. The Fourth is on Thursday. 

“I’m missing the holiday rush, I know,” John says, answering Dean’s unasked concern. “I already talked to Ellen, she said she’s got it handled. You’ll help her hold down the fort, right?”

Dean can’t tell if that’s truly a question or an order. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good man. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Dean hangs up, places the phone back on the table. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Dean says. He steps over and takes Cas’s empty glass, refills it for himself. “My dad’s gonna be back Friday.” 

“Alright,” Cas says. 

Dean downs the water and puts the cup in the sink. 

“I’m gonna get in the shower,” he says, changing the subject. Cas nods.

“Wish you could join me,” Dean adds with a smirk, standing in close and sliding a hand over Cas’s hip. 

Cas’s mouth twists, and he gives Dean his squintiest look. “Don’t tantalize me.” 

Dean laughs. He gives Cas a brusque peck on his jaw before stepping away, slapping him on the ass as he does. 

“I’ll set up the tub for you in room one before I go so you can rinse off. You can lie in there and think about me in the shower.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. 

***

Cas works at Frank’s a couple more days that week, and seems to enjoy it just as much each time. On Wednesday, when Dean drops him off, Cas convinces him to come inside and meet Coral. 

“She likes to sit by the cash register, I’ll show you,” Cas says as they shuffle through the door, the Impala left idling by the curb. They both wave at Frank, who’s organizing a shelf near the back of the store. 

Sure enough, there’s a long-haired calico curled up on the checkout counter, her tail wrapped around herself snugly. She picks her head up when they approach, making a soft noise when she sees them coming.

“Good morning, Coral,” Cas says with a smile, reaching out to scratch behind her ears. She chirps happily, nudging up into his touch, and Cas turns to Dean. “Do you hear?”

“Yeah, I hear,” Dean says. He can’t say he’s much of a cat person, but he finds himself smiling and he has to admit, she is beautiful. “She’s fat.” 

Cas shoots him a glare, offended for her. “She is _not_ fat. It’s mostly hair. Pet her.” 

Though he tosses Cas a look, Dean mostly just does it just to be ornery. He pets her, and she chirps for him, too. He likes the way she stretches her neck out so he can scratch under her chin. She actually does seem pretty small under all that hair. 

“She’s soft,” Dean says. 

“Admit it,” Cas narrows his eyes. “You like her.”

Dean purses his lips, but he gives up the act pretty quickly. 

“Yeah, I like her.” 

Cas smiles at that, pleased, and Dean feels his own expression soften at the sight. 

After leaving Cas at the pet store, Dean goes back to the motel and helps Ellen with some things, as the last of the Fourth of July rush comes into town. Jo’s there, too, so the work isn’t bad. They mess around just enough to keep themselves entertained, but not too much so as to get more than a glare from Ellen. It’s not long, though, before Ellen thanks them for their help and tells them that she can finish up. 

“Hey,” Dean says to Jo before he heads out. “I was thinking about getting Ash to hook me up for tomorrow night. You wanna come with us?”

Jo’s eyes light up. “Hell yeah, I wanna come.”

“Sweet,” Dean grins. “I’ll text him.” 

Dean’s had the idea in his head all week, and he knows Sam and Cas will both love it. He manages to meet up with Ash to buy the stuff without either of them finding out, but he has trouble keeping the secret until Thursday night. 

“ _Where_ are we going?” Sam whines as he, Dean, Cas and Jo pile in the Impala, the sun just setting on the other side of Coastal Highway. “We’re gonna miss fireworks.”

“No we’re not, Sam,” Dean says. “Quit complaining.”

“How come Jo gets to know where we’re going?”

“Because I’m awesome.” 

“Because she’s known since yesterday,” Dean explains with a roll of his eyes. He slides into the driver’s seat beside Cas.

“I’d really like to see the fireworks,” Cas pipes up. 

“ _We’re not going to miss the fireworks_ ,” Dean says, exasperated, and Jo chuckles. 

Cas has been all about the fireworks all freaking day, ever since Sam mentioned them the first time that morning. He had gone with Dean to work at Bobby’s earlier, and while Dean got one of Bobby’s junkers up on blocks he talked his ear off about them. He’d said that he and his brothers and sisters would watch them every year, but he never knew what they were for. 

“Everyone just be quiet, and be patient.”

A grudging silence fills the car in place of the complaining, so Dean turns the radio on to fill it. 

Dean pulls out of the Bunker and points them south. He’s careful to watch his speed on Coastal Highway, but when he gets off the exit for Route 50, going as if headed for Bobby’s, he opens her up. There’s just the radio, the salty breeze, and the sun sinking below the horizon ahead of them. It’s only a few minutes before Dean comes up on the place, and he slows to pull off to the right. He’s been scoping this place out since last year. 

It’s a new residential area, a slew of expensive-looking townhomes with ‘For Lease’ signs recently propped up beside a small marina. There are a couple of light posts illuminating the narrow street, and Dean is sure to park away from both of them.

Dean can see the questions burning on Sam’s and Cas’s faces as everyone clambers from the car, but they contain themselves as Dean goes to the trunk and grabs his duffel. 

“This way,” Dean says, careful to keep his voice down. 

There’s a gravel path that leads between the marina and the townhomes, and he leads the way down. It’s not long before it gives way to grass, and then sand. It gets darker as they go, heading towards the bay with marsh land coming up on either side of them. 

“Is this private property?” Sam hisses.

“Probably,” Dean says, and Jo snickers to his left. “So don’t be loud.”

He lets himself privately enjoy the irony of that last part, because the whole point of being here is to be _very_ loud. 

They walk a hundred or so yards down the sandy path and then they’re at the end of it. The little trail opens up to a grassy field at the very tip of the tiny peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water. It’s secluded, the only lights visible from across the bay, and the only sound is lapping water and a distant gull. 

“This spot is _perfect_ ,” Jo says, and Dean grins proudly. He thought so, too.

“Did you take us out here to murder us?” Sam says, exasperated at being kept out of the loop. 

“Yes,” Dean says with a roll of his eyes. “And you’re going first, big mouth.” Dean drops the duffel in the grass. “No, you dipshit. Check it out.” 

In one swift motion, Dean crouches down and unzips the duffel, laying its contents open. Sam gasps. Jo whistles. Cas doesn’t look like he understands. 

“No way,” Sam whispers, squatting next to the open bag. He pulls one of the canisters out, staring at it in disbelief. 

“What is this stuff?” Cas asks, bending to get a closer look.

“They’re - ”

“ _Fireworks_ , Cas!” Sam hoots, jumping up in excitement. “No _way_. Dean, where’d you get all these?” 

“Ash got it all for me. I know you guys wanted to see the ones on the beach, but I thought maybe you’d like to light some off yourselves - ”

“Are you kidding?” Sam exclaims. “This is so much better!” 

“We get to light them off?” Cas asks with wide eyes. 

“Let’s start with these,” Sam says, taking a few of the Roman candles and passing them around to everyone. “De’, you got your lighter?” 

Digging his Zippo from his pocket, Dean ushers everyone close and lights each of the fuses.

“Hold it high, Cas, like this,” Jo instructs, lifting hers away from herself. Cas glances at her and follows her lead.

The fuzes fizz as they burn down, and almost at once they start to go off. Bright orbs of trailing phosphorus erupt from the ends and launch high, where they flare with a _pop_ and a glimmer. Flickering as they come back down, the burning embers fade and go out just as new flares launch from the canisters. 

The little field is illuminated. The light shimmers across the surrounding water and on the faces of the four of them as they stare up in wonder. Dean drags his eyes from the display to glance around at the others, smiling when he sees how broadly Sam and Jo are grinning.

“Wow,” Cas’s voice is quiet with awe, and when Dean looks to him he has to do a double take. 

With the dancing glow across his upturned cheeks, Castiel is iridescent. There’s a shine in his eyes and a softness to the set of his mouth that Dean can feel viscerally, blunt beneath his ribs. Cas must sense him staring because he turns, but when their eyes meet Cas’s face doesn’t lose the look of astonishment. 

Dean lets Sam take over, passing over the lighter and the control of the fireworks, much to the kid’s elation. He mostly just stands back and watches, content just seeing how much the others are enjoying it. Sam lets Jo light the next few, and the both of them show Cas how to do a couple, too. Cas burns his thumb once, and while he’s mildly startled at first, staring at his thumb like he’s personally offended that the lighter would do that, it doesn’t keep him from wanting to light another one. 

They finish the Roman candles and set off the fountains, which don’t go very high but are so bright they make Dean have to squint. They crackle pretty loud, which is cool, but Sam seems to get bored of those pretty quickly and pulls out the big ones. Dean can see him debating, holding a rocket in each hand and looking from one to the other.

Sam twists at the waist to see Dean over his shoulder. “Dean,” he says, and Dean knows what he’s gonna ask before he does. “Can we light all these off at once?”

Dean shrugs, a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets. “You’re the boss, little brother.” 

Grinning, Sam bends down and starts setting up the canisters in a row. He directs Cas and Jo, telling them where he wants everything, before shooing them back where Dean is so he can light them up. 

“Fire in the hole!” Sam yells, darting up from his crouch and sprinting back to stand next to Dean. 

It’s quite the display. It’s loud, probably way too loud to be doing behind this residential area, but Dean is grinning wide and doesn’t care. Firework after firework explodes high above to shower flickering stars around them. It’s not nearly as big as the show that Ocean City puts on over the beach, but they’re up close and personal with these and it’s a hundred times better. 

When he sees Sam look up at him from his right, Dean turns to him. 

“Dad would never let us do anything like this,” Sam says, awe in his voice and a hero-worship in his eyes that Dean thought was long gone. “Thanks, Dean. This is great.” 

Without warning, he steps in close and flings his arms around Dean’s middle in a crushing hug, his shaggy head against Dean’s chest. A little caught off guard, Dean can only stand and blink for a moment before he relaxes, bringing his own arms around the kid’s shoulders. He feels his mouth stretch into a slow smile. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Don’t mention it, Sammy.”

Sam lets him ruffle his hair as he pulls away with a grin. 

Later, when they’re back in the car and fireworks are done, all of them smelling a bit like sulfur, Sam lets out a happy sigh from the back seat. 

“Best Fourth of July ever,” he says quietly. 

Dean’s fingers are tangled with Cas’s on the seat between them and there’s a warm, unfamiliar feeling in his chest that he’s come to associate with moments like these, and Dean has to agree with him. 

***

The rain that was called for in the forecast comes later than expected, but it does indeed come. It starts on Friday and continues through the weekend, with little indication of stopping before the following week. Many renters who came for the holiday leave earlier than they had scheduled because of the weather, something John is immediately grumpy about when he gets back. 

Dean isn’t sure if the low occupancy is the only reason for his mood, because his dad seemed particularly sullen as soon as he pulled up in his truck Friday afternoon. He’s irritable and almost sulky, and maybe Dean’s imagining it but he seems to be avoiding everyone. Once, Dean walked past his dad’s bedroom to hear him arguing with someone over the phone. He couldn’t make out the words, but John had sounded pretty insistent about something. 

Figuring it’s the best thing to do, Dean and Sam generally just keep out of his way through the rainy weekend. 

Staying away from the apartment, despite the off and on showers, proves to not be very hard. Cas gets his first payment from Frank on Saturday morning and is so excited that he insists the three of them go to the boardwalk. Luckily, the rain pauses long enough that night that they can go.

Thrilled to be the one paying, Cas cashes in a couple of bills for quarters at the arcade and passes them around. They play until their coins run out. 

Cas beats his own high score for Speed of Light, and graciously gives every one of his tickets to Sam so he can get a prize. Dean pitches in what he won, too, and Sam picks out a giant penguin with a grin on his face that’s just as big. 

“Let’s get pizza,” Cas says as they walk away from the prize counter. “I’ll pay for it.” 

Dean and Sam share an amused look. 

On Sunday they go to Benny’s, and he’s happy to see all of them. Even though Sam’s birthday was months ago, Benny said since he missed it his breakfast was on the house. Much to Dean’s annoyance, Meg shamelessly flirts with Cas when she brings their food to the table. When she laughs at something he says and reaches out a hand to his bicep, Dean finally snaps. 

“Don’t you have other tables to torment?” He retorts, not even trying to keep the disdain out of his voice. 

Meg turns to him, looks him up and down. “Point taken,” she says. “You’ve got your territory marked.” 

She sneers, and Dean glares at her until she walks away. 

They go to the movies, getting cheap matinee tickets and seeing something forgettable. They walk through the blown glass store, where Dean sternly tells both Cas and Sam not to touch anything. They play a game of mini golf for free on the little indoor course at the place with Sam’s picture in the ad - Cas is terrible, and somehow loses three balls. They sit on the handmade rocking chairs under the portico outside the furniture store for a while, looking out over Coastal Highway, and they avoid the Bunker and they avoid the rain. 

Drizzles are still falling idly on the concrete outside when Dean sets Cas up in room one late one night a few days later. Cas hasn’t stayed overnight in the tub in a while, using the pool or sleeping in Dean’s bed since they’d gotten back from the road trip. Though Dean feels guilty admitting it to himself, it was nice not having John around for a while so they could spend that time together without worrying. 

As though he was thinking the same thing, Cas comes up behind Dean while he’s testing the temperature of the water. 

“I’ll miss you tonight,” Cas murmurs, stepping in close to Dean’s back. 

Sighing, Dean straightens up. “Yeah. Sorry you have to stay in here, I know it kinda sucks.” 

Curling a finger through one of the belt loops of Dean’s jeans, Cas tugs him around to face him. 

“It’s alright,” Cas says, sliding both hands over Dean’s waist.

Dean smiles softly, skimming his own hands up Cas’s stomach to splay his fingers over his chest. Cas never complains about having to stay in room one. 

“I’ll miss you, too, though,” Dean whispers, and he knows it’s ridiculous and sappy and he feels his face flush before he even says it but he says, “You’ll dream about me, won’t you?” 

The way the corner of Cas’s mouth tugs up at that makes Dean’s heart flutter, and he stares. 

“I always dream of you, Dean.” 

Mouth twisting with the effort to hold back an undoubtedly ridiculous smile, Dean leans in and kisses him to keep himself from saying something else ludicrous. 

The kiss is unhurried but it’s deep, tongues sliding and teeth clicking. They step in close until they’re flush chest to hips, Cas’s arms around Dean tight and Dean’s hands in Cas’s hair. The rain patters on the roof and the faucet runs loudly. 

With shuffling steps, Dean backs Cas up until the backs of his knees bump the tub and he’s forced to sit, right on the edge. Standing between his open legs, Dean lets his hands come to rest on either side of Cas’s neck, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and gently tugging it with his teeth. In response, Cas’s fingers curve around the backs of Dean’s thighs, just beneath his ass, and squeeze softly. 

Cas makes a noise in his throat as Dean pulls away to tip his forehead down against his. Slowly, he opens his eyes and finds Cas already looking at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

Dean feels himself flush. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters. “You’re turning me soft, Cas.”

Mouth stretching into a smile, Cas’s eyes flit over Dean’s face. “You’ve always been soft.” 

Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “That is not true.”

“It is,” Cas insists, tugging Dean closer with his grip on the backs of his legs. “You’re the most compassionate person I know.” 

“You don’t know that many people,” Dean says with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, you’re the best one.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just shakes his head. They look at one another, and they breathe. 

Behind Cas, the tub gets about full and Dean sighs. Stretching over him, Dean shunts the water off before returning his arm around Cas’s shoulders. 

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” Dean says, but he doesn’t make a move to pull away from Cas’s touch. 

Cas groans softly, dropping his forehead against Dean’s chest. 

“I don’t want to go in,” Cas says, and it’s muffled in Dean’s t-shirt but it sounds petulant. 

“You really should,” Dean says with a chuckle, skating his fingers through the hair at the back of Cas’s head. “It’s been a few days.” 

Cas sighs and turns to glance at the water over his shoulder. There’s a sort of curve to his brow that if Dean were being honest he would say was apprehensive, and it makes him frown.

“What’s up?” Taking Cas’s chin in his hand, Dean gently turns his head to meet his gaze. Cas says nothing, but tips his face into Dean’s hand and kisses his palm. “Cas, what?”

“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head. “Just wanna be with you.” 

The puppy dog eyes that Cas levels up at him could put Sam’s to shame, honestly. Dean feels his mouth twist, but despite his effort to hold back his smile, he can’t. 

“Want you, Dean,” Cas murmurs into Dean’s palm.

Dean swallows. “Yeah?” 

“Always.”

***

Dean’s heart thuds in his chest. He squeezes his hands into fists, trying to keep his nerves down. Anxious, he glances furtively over his shoulder to make sure there’s no one else in the aisle. 

Coast is clear. Just be quick. 

Turning back to the shelf, Dean’s eyes scan quickly, looking for what he needs. Jesus, why are there so many brands?

Sam’s somewhere else in the grocery store, sent off by Dean to grab some things, so he only has a few minutes until he comes looking for him again. Hopefully the ‘Personal Care’ aisle isn’t the first place his kid brother will look. Dean’s face flushes. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean mutters. 

He grabs the closest one to him from the shelf and stalks off, shoving it to the bottom of his basket. 

“C’mon,” he says to Sam when he finds the kid milling about by the front of the store. “We’re going to the self checkout.” 

“Why?” 

“‘Cuz it’s faster.” Dean brushes past Sam and heads for an open belt. 

“Why are we rushing?” 

“We’re not rushing, but I told Cas I’d get him from work before going to Bobby’s.” 

Sam dumps his cereal and peanut butter on the belt. 

“Can I pick out a candy? Just one?” 

Dean hesitates. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Really?” Sam asks, face lighting up. 

“Before I change my mind, yeah,” Dean says. 

As soon as Sam’s back is turned he fishes to the bottom of the basket, feeling around for - got it. He scans it and shoves it in his pocket before Sam turns around. His pulse hammers in his chest, and he shakes his head at the flush he feels at the tips of his ears. 

Sam and Dean are hit with the heat of the day as soon as the sliding doors open to the parking lot. Each with a grocery bag, they head towards the Impala. 

These first few weeks of July have been admittedly stifling. While Dean doesn’t like to give in to Cas’s whining about the temperature, he has to admit that it’s been pretty awful. The rain has been doing nothing to cool the days off, and instead has just made it oppressively muggy. The humidity is sticky and stuffy and Dean can feel it in his lungs. 

“Do you care if I drop you and the groceries off at the apartment?” Dean asks, cranking his window down as he steers the Impala onto the street. 

“No,” Sam says with a shake of his head. He tears into his candy bar. “Have you talked to Cas?” 

“About what?”

“About staying.” 

Dean whips his head over to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

Sam has the nerve to look exasperated, even with his mouth full of chocolate. “I mean, aren’t you planning on asking him?” 

Dean blinks at him before returning his eyes to the road. They ease up to a stop light. 

“Like… asking him to stay?” The very thought of that makes Dean’s chest seize painfully.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You know, like, to make sure he knows you want him to stick around.”

“I mean, I guess I just assumed he already knows that I want him to - to stay, or whatever,” Dean stammers. Why is he always having these embarrassing conversation with his little brother?

“You’re clueless, you know that?” 

“What’s _that_ s’posed to mean?” Dean asks, defensive. 

“People like to hear things out loud, Dean,” Sam says, and he sounds like he’s talking to an imbecile. When it comes to this, he probably thinks he is. “He might know it, but you should still say it. I’m sure he wants you to say it.” 

Thoughts circling and stomach twisting, Dean doesn’t say anything to that. He hits the gas as the light turns green. While he knows that Sam’s right, in that way he has that never ceases to be really annoying and still sort of astonishing - twelve years old and saying things like that - the very thought of asking Cas that out loud makes Dean so nervous he feels sick. 

“But what if he says no?” Dean chokes out, voice croaking on the fresh worry that he didn’t want to admit. 

Sam just scoffs at that, and while Dean isn’t completely sure what that means, he doesn’t say any more. He takes a breath and turns back to the road. 

After Dean drops Sam off, making him promise not to forget to put the milk in the refrigerator, it’s just about two o’clock and he heads off again towards Devereaux’s pet store. Against his better judgement he lets his mind wander on his way there, to dangerous territory. 

He lets himself imagine it. Asking Cas if he wanted to stay here, to stay with him. They could make it work. His only true worry is John, but it’s been two months already, and it’s been okay this far. He lets himself imagine it, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He swallows past the sticking in his throat. 

Cas is waiting on the curb outside the pet store, and he looks grumpy. Dean’s eyebrows quirk at the irritable frown on Cas’s face as he pulls the Impala up alongside him, shoving the whole thing to the back of his mind. 

“Hi,” Dean says through the open window. 

Tugging the door open, Cas slides in with a huff. 

“Hello.” 

Dean snorts. “What’s up?” 

Finally, Cas turns to face Dean, and he glares. “It’s so fucking hot.” 

Dean can’t help but laugh at that, despite knowing it’ll just piss Cas off more. Sure enough, Cas punches him on the shoulder as Dean puts the car in gear and drives off. 

“It’s miserable, truly,” Cas insists, dragging his seat belt over himself. 

“You sure you wanna come to Bobby’s, then, princess? I can drop you off with Sam to sit in the air conditioning.” 

“No,” Cas insists quickly. “I want to go to Bobby’s. We’re still going on a test drive, aren’t we?” 

Dean nods with a smile, pleased that Cas remembered. After working on it twice last week, Dean finally announced that he thinks the Roadrunner is ready to drive off the property. He promised Cas that they would take it out after he finished at work. 

“Yeah, of course,” Dean says. 

The grouchy frown finally clears from Cas’s face and he grins. 

Dean asks Cas how work was while they drive, and Cas tells him about the ferret that was adopted and the new rabbits that they got in. 

“How’s Coral?” 

“Oh, she’s lovely,” Cas says. “An absolute lady, as always.” 

Dean shakes his head at that with a smile. 

Bobby’s already out in the yard when they get there, towing some old junker. He waves to them out the open window of his truck before pulling around the corner of the house and out of sight. By the time Dean and Cas have clambered out, Bobby’s walking back around the house, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. 

“Hey, boys,” he says with a nod, joining them beside the Roadrunner.. 

“Hello, Bobby.”

“Hey, Bobby.” 

“You two takin’ this ol’ piece of junk out for a spin?” 

“That’s the plan,” Dean says with a nod, slapping a hand on the roof. “We’ll call you if we get stranded out there.” 

“Nah,” Bobby shakes his head with a smile. “I’m sure it’ll do fine. You did good work on it, kid.”

Dean shrugs at that, his cheeks heating. “We’ll see, I guess.” 

Bobby raps his knuckles on the hood. “Once you’ve finished up the body work, I’ll order the paint. So start thinkin’ about a color.” 

Dean blinks. He has no idea about a color. He’s been so focused on each individual repair and replacement, he’d never put much thought into the thing actually being finished well enough to paint. 

“Anyway, you boys mind droppin’ somethin’ off for me while you’re out?” Bobby asks. “I’ve just got an old box of some parts for a friend of mine, needs taken to his place out near Sinepuxent.” 

“Sure, Bobby, no problem,” Dean says. “Long as your redneck friend doesn’t shoot us.” He gives his most impish grin, just to see Bobby roll his eyes. 

The Roadrunner definitely isn’t the same ride as the Impala. It’s not nearly as smooth to drive, doesn’t handle quite as well, but it’s got pretty good pick-up. That, and the simple fact that it runs, successfully, going over sixty miles per hour with no weird sounds or shaking or smoking is more than enough to have Dean grinning as he breaks the speed limit on the back roads leaving Bobby’s house. This car is _his_ , not just because it was a gift to him but because he built nearly half of it, put his own hard work and determination and sometimes pure stubbornness into it and it was _enough_. It’s a good feeling, an empowering one, to cruise down the road in the set of wheels he nursed back to function, windows down and a beautiful boy in his passenger seat. 

“How does she feel?” Cas calls over the sound of the air blowing through the windows. 

Dean had taught him about that, about how cars were ladies and needed to be treated with respect, and Cas had nodded seriously and said he understands now why Dean has a pet name for his. So his use of the pronoun has Dean grinning wider - Jesus, Cas is cute, sitting to his right with the wind blowing his hair across his forehead and calling the car a ‘she.’

“She feels great,” Dean says. “So far, at least.” 

Cas smiles at that, a soft set to his mouth and pride in his eyes. Dean has to look away before he blushes, but he reaches over and squeezes the top of Cas’s thigh. 

“Dean,” Cas says when they’ve gone a few more miles. 

“Yeah?”

“Will you teach me how to drive?”

Dean turns to him, eyebrows raised, to find Cas looking earnest. “You wanna learn how to drive?” 

Cas nods. 

“Oh,” Dean says, considering that. He’s suddenly brought back to what Sam had said before, and it makes his stomach lurch - _maybe he’s planning on sticking around._

“Sure, Cas,” he says slowly, and Cas’s mouth turns up in a smile. After a moment, however, he adds, “In this car, though. Not in the Impala.”

Cas is intrigued by the farmland they drive through. He’d seen it on their road trip, when they had passed corn fields and horse farms, but back here they’re immersed in it. The roads give way to dirt and start to wind, and Dean glances at the directions Bobby scrawled down for him so he doesn’t get them lost. Pebbles can be heard bouncing against the undercarriage and Dean’s grateful they hadn’t brought the Impala out here. 

The house that matches the address that Bobby gave them is tucked back on a long driveway. There are dogs tied up to a detached garage, junkers growing grass on them in the yard, and a chicken coop - the birds mill about, pecking at the dirt. 

“What are _those?_ ” Cas’s eyes are wide as he braces one hand on the dashboard so he can peer out the window. 

“Chickens.” 

“ _Those_ are chickens?”

Dean chuckles, steering the car to the clearing by the garage. “Yep.” 

“They don’t look nearly as delicious as they taste.” 

Dean laughs. 

Cas waits in the yard to watch the chickens as Dean heaves the box of parts up to the front porch. The guy eyes him suspiciously when he answers the door, even though Dean knows Bobby told him he was coming, but he takes the box of parts with a grunt and a nod. Dean shakes his head as he walks off the porch as the guy closes the door. Bobby’s got weird friends. 

“C’mon,” Dean calls to Cas, who’s standing amongst the chickens with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

They stick to back roads, since the car isn’t registered and isn’t technically street legal, but there’s no shortage of winding, empty two-lanes around here. The wind blows through the car and the radio plays, and back here with trees and farms and grass it barely even smells like the ocean and it feels like freedom. Dean can’t keep himself from glancing over at Castiel in his passenger seat every once in a while, looking content with an arm out the window and his t-shirt rustling. He’s jolted, just a little, when Cas turns to meet his gaze because his eyes are so impossibly blue in the slanting light of the afternoon and Dean is hopeless. 

They drive, and a thought comes to Dean that makes his breath come up short because he realizes how irrevocably true it is, as soon as it cross his mind. They drive, and he reaches out to take Cas’s hand, and he thinks about how Cas would make it bearable, staying around. He could do what his dad wants, he could stick around to help run the Bunker, if he had Cas here with him. Castiel would make it bearable. 

He wants to tell him that, he wants to ask the question that Sam insists he asks. Dean wants to let Cas know that he wants him, wants him here, doesn’t want him to leave. But he doesn’t have the words for it, not yet, and so he brings Cas’s hand up to his mouth to kiss his fingertips just to glimpse the soft lift of Cas’s mouth as he does it, and he drives. 

They come to a wheat field that’s so expansive it’s as if the trees bordering its back side are miles away, and Dean pulls off onto the dirt road that runs alongside it. He takes the road back far, far enough that they can’t see the street they came off of and there’s only the woods to their right and nothing but wheat to their left, and they get out of the car. 

Standing shoulder to shoulder, they look over the field. Dean is reminded of the day last week that they had gone for a run and stood quietly on the end of the pier. 

When Castiel steps forward Dean follows, just behind, into the tall wheat. He watches Cas’s back, the way he holds an arm out to trail his fingers through the bristly tops of the crops, and he walks in his footsteps. 

The plants are dry, just ready to harvest, golden even with the sun creeping behind clouds. Cas walks for quite a while, until they’re nothing but surrounded, and then he stills. Looking out over the field is like looking at something far-reaching and alive, the way the breeze travels across and the whole thing sways together. Dean studies the side of Cas’s face.

Voice soft with wonder, Cas says, “It looks like the ocean.” 

Dean nods in agreement, though Cas can’t see him over his shoulder. It does look like the ocean, waves created by the wind and out in the middle of it, it appears almost as big. Dean reaches for him. 

Castiel turns when Dean’s fingertips trail over his wrist, and they regard one another. It’s the two of them standing in the gentle tide in the middle of a wheat field, and Dean draws Cas close until their noses bump. Cas tilts his head and kisses him. 

There’s the sound of the field rustling and of their lips brushing, of their breath between them. They stand as close as they can, completely flush and trying to be nearer. Dean gets a hand tangled in Cas’s t-shirt and holds on desperately, licking past his lips to taste him and holding back a noise in his throat as he does. 

“Dean,” Cas says into his mouth, and it comes out soft on the edge of a breath and Dean just about melts under his touch. 

Sliding a hand around the back of Cas’s neck, Dean drops to his knees and drags Cas with him, guiding him to the ground where they’re lost amongst the wheat swaying above their heads. Cas goes easily of course, willing beneath Dean’s hands, and when Dean pushes him onto his back where he flattens the grass he pulls Dean along by the front of his shirt. Settled over him, Dean kisses him open-mouthed. 

Fingernails blunt and faintly biting, Cas urges Dean downward until their chests touch, hands trailing up the back of his t-shirt. Dean slots a thigh between Cas’s legs to hear him gasp, and isn’t disappointed - he smiles, satisfied, against his mouth. 

They make out, lying together on the ground beneath the ebbing current of the wheat grass, the breeze picking up around them but they pay it no mind, hardly even notice. Dean grinds down into Cas’s hip because he can’t help himself, and the groan that rumbles from deep within Cas’s chest has his hands trembling and his breath shuddering past his lips. He can feel his cock begin to fill against his leg, trapped in his jeans, and he suddenly remembers the small bottle he’d shoved in his pocket at the grocery store. 

The realization has him pulling back with a sharp inhale, his face flushing. He stares down at Cas, who gazes up at him from where he lies flat on his back and gasping with his pupils blown wide. It’s looking at how dark Cas’s eyes appear, the blue just a narrow band around the black, that makes Dean suddenly realize how overcast it seems to have gotten. 

Frowning, Dean pushes himself up on a palm to look around them. The breeze has picked up to a wind, deliberate and whirling, but it’s the giant thundercloud above them that really catches his attention. Cas sits up beside him. 

“Oh, shit,” Dean says. He turns to Cas, and it’s just as their eyes meet, both pairs wide with alarm, that the first clap of thunder splits the sky. 

They both flinch down, Dean covering his head as the sound reverberates through the earth beneath them. He feels a drop of rain splat against his knuckles, and he brings his arm down. He and Cas both stare at the spot of water, seemingly innocuous, until another drops onto the back of his hand. They look up at one another. 

“ _Get back to the car_ ,” Dean says. 

And then they’re scrambling up, crushing the grass around them in their haste, Dean hauling Cas to his feet by his shirt and shoving him in front of him in the direction of the car. They take off sprinting, following the trail of broken stalks that they tromped through on their way out. Dean’s heart is pounding in his ears and he urges Cas faster with a nudge between his shoulder blades. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” Dean‘s calves burn with the effort of sprinting flat-out. Jesus, they walked out far, how are they not back to the car yet? The rain starts to fall with increasing earnest and Dean’s breath catches in his throat with panic. Cas can’t get caught out here.

Finally, the car appears in view up ahead and they burst through the edge of the crops to skid through the dirt smack into the drivers side door. Reaching around Cas, Dean wrenches the door open and shoves him unceremoniously inside. He follows, sliding into the bench seat and slamming the door hard behind them just as the sky opens up. 

The deluge comes suddenly and fiercely, like buckets of water dumping from the heavens. Dean’s breathing hard, his heart still racing as water pounds down onto the car, almost deafening, and Castiel is laughing over the sound. 

Dean rounds on him, incredulous. “What the hell are you laughing for?” 

His shoulders actually shaking with the force of it, Cas just laughs harder. Dean shoves him, hard. 

“What the hell, Cas!”

“That was very funny,” Cas manages to get out, tears in his eyes. 

Dean stares at him for a beat with his mouth open. “No, that was not funny! Quit laughing!” 

“I can’t,” Cas erupts into another fit of amusement. “It _was_ funny.”

“Yeah?” Dean shoves him again but Cas doesn’t seem to care - he throws a forearm up to block it but does nothing to stifle his laughter. “And what if you had sprouted a tail out there, huh? In the middle of a goddamn wheat field, that would’ve been funny? What would I have done with you then, asshole?” 

Cas wipes tears from his eyes, still grinning, and Dean just glares at him. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “Would you be laughing if I had to drag your fish ass back to the car? I don’t think so! Your freaking tail wouldn’t even fit - ”

“You do remember I can control small amounts of water, don’t you?” Cas asks, a glint of humor in his eye. 

Dean blinks. “What?” 

“I can keep the raindrops off of me, if I put my mind to it. I can make them go around me.” 

Seconds tick by as Dean gawks at him, until, “ _What the fuck, Cas?_ ”

Cas starts laughing again. 

“Are you serious? _Cas_.” 

When Cas nods, apparently unable to form words, Dean shakes his head. 

“All this time, I’ve been trying to keep you out of the rain - _months_ , and the whole time you could control the freaking - all this time!” 

“For the record,” Cas says, getting himself under control again, “it takes a fair amount of concentration. So I’d prefer to not be in the rain, but in a case of emergency I could do it.” 

Dean tries to keep his scowl in place but he can feel it losing its heat. 

“Besides,” Cas says, his grin turning clever. “I like it when you fret over me.” 

Scoffing, Dean has to look away at that because he feels his resolve break and he doesn’t want to give Cas the satisfaction. His shakes his head at the driver’s window, his tongue shoved into his cheek to keep himself from smiling. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says again, and he knows he must give himself away by his voice because Cas chuckles again and scoots closer across the bench. 

“At least the car doesn’t have a leak,” Cas says, making Dean roll his eyes. 

When Dean finally turns back to him, Cas is doing a shit job of holding back a grin and Dean feels himself lose all of his determination to be cranky. 

“Yeah,” Dean says sarcastically, but he can tell the look he levels at Cas is soft and it’s affectionate. “I’ve got a half-fish pain in the ass for a boyfriend, but at least my car doesn’t leak.” 

“Hm,” Cas says brightly. “You’re a lucky guy.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grounches, and he slides a hand around Cas’s jaw and he leans in and kisses him. 

Cas makes a happy noise, opening his mouth immediately to let Dean in. Dean doesn’t stop there, shifting close so he can swing a knee over Cas’s legs until he’s in the guy’s lap - there’s just enough room, the top of his hair brushing the upholstery of the roof. Getting his hands around the backs of Dean’s thighs, Cas uses his grip to pull him in flush and Dean goes more than willingly. 

Scraping a hand up into Cas’s hair, Dean slides his other arm around his neck and kisses him fiercely. It’s reciprocated enthusiastically, Cas’s mouth wide and eager, their tongues sliding. They pant into each others mouths, but the sound of their breathing is drowned out by the downpour battering the car around them. 

“So you’ve forgiven me?” Cas gasps between kisses. 

“Hardly,” Dean says, but he smiles when he says it and he grinds his hips down into Cas’s lap. 

Groaning, Cas slides his hands to Dean’s ass and squeezes. Their tongues tangle again, hot and wet, and Cas feels solid and warm between Dean’s legs and it’s driving him crazy. He wants more of him, wants to feel him, so he pulls away. Cas makes a noise of protest, stretching to re-capture Dean’s mouth but Dean gets both hands in Cas’s t-shirt and tugs until he gets the message. Unconsciously, Dean notes that it’s the grey Eye of the Tiger shirt that used to be his favorite - Cas wears it these days more than he does, but he finds that he likes it better on him, anyway. It gets thrown indiscriminately into the footwell. 

They kiss, Dean’s hand splayed wide across Cas’s bare chest, until they separate again so Dean can pull his own shirt over his head. Both naked from the waist up, they come back together, desperate. When Dean angles his pelvis down into Cas’s again it’s to find, with satisfaction, that Cas is hardening in his pants. He grinds down into him and Cas reciprocates, canting his hips up to meet Dean’s. They rut against each other until they work up a rhythm, surrounded by rain on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. 

Every other thrust or so Dean feels a spike of warmth in his belly but it vanishes too fast and it isn’t enough. There’s too much fabric between them, and Dean thinks this just as Cas fumbles to undo the front of his jeans. It’s a relief when his button and fly are undone and Cas reaches in to pull his dick free, his hand on him feeling incredible. Dean leans into him, encouraging his touch, kissing him heatedly. 

Cas strokes him and long and slow, Dean’s back arching with the feeling. In turn, he works Cas’s pants open until he has him, hot and heavy, in his hand. Cas’s lips falters on his own as he does, and he feels his breath stutter in his mouth. He matches the movement of his wrist with Cas’s so they’re jerking each other in unison, swiping his thumb through the precome beading at the tip to slick the way. Dean’s mouth waters at the feeling of Cas in his hand, and that’s when, again, he remembers the bottle in his pocket. 

Dean pulls back with a gasp, his heart kicking up suddenly in his chest. He stares at Cas.

“What’s the matter?” Cas asks, short of breath. His hand on Dean’s dick stills, his other squeezing gently at the muscle above Dean’s hip. 

“Nothing,” Dean stammers. “Um - I - ”

Cas frowns, concern flitting across his brow. “What - ”

“I have, um - ” Dean swallows. He can’t seem to get the words out, a blush creeping up his neck. Instead of trying to explain, he shifts to work his hand into his pocket. 

Cas watches intently, curious, as Dean digs out the little bottle from the grocery store. He looks at it, heart thudding, and holds it up for Cas to see. Cas doesn’t seem like he knows what it is. 

“It’s, uh - it’s lube. I thought, maybe - ” Dean shrugs, hoping to get out of having to explain, but Cas still doesn’t seem to understand. “Um, here,” he says, and he tears the plastic off with his teeth before popping the cap open with a thumbnail and taking Cas’s hand. 

He upturns the bottle and squirts some over Cas’s fingers. It’s wet and glistening, and just seeing Cas rub it over his fingertips, intrigued, has Dean’s heart racing. 

“It smells like fruit,” Cas says, and he’s right. It’s a strong smell, like peaches or something, and it diffuses throughout the car. 

“Oh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck a bit self-consciously. “I must’ve got a scented one by accident.”

“It’s like lotion?” Cas asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “But better.” 

With the hand that’s slicked up, Cas wraps his fingers again around Dean and strokes him base to tip, making Dean’s breath catch. 

“Does that feel good?” Cas asks, studying his face. 

“Yeah,” Dean pants with a nod. “Really good.” 

Cas does it again, twisting his wrist under the head, and then before Dean can react he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s chest, swiping his tongue over the bud of his nipple. Dean groans, his head tipping back with a shiver at the sensation. 

Hands trembling a bit, Dean gets a generous amount of lube squirted over his fingers and takes Cas in his hand again. The lube really is so much better, sleeking the way as he pumps his fist over Cas’s cock. He gives a particularly firm squeeze under the head and Cas responds by closing his teeth around Dean’s nipple and giving a sharp nip. Dean twitches, his mouth falling opening with a surprised noise from in his throat. 

“Cas,” he gasps, Cas smoothing his tongue over the spot again to sooth it. “Cas.” 

Dean gets his free hand tangled in the back of Cas’s hair and tugs his head up to slam their mouths together. He licks into his mouth and Cas lets him. 

Too distracted by Castiel’s mouth and his cock in his hand, Dean doesn’t pay much attention to the sounds of Cas fumbling for the bottle or of the _pop_ of the cap. It’s not until Cas slides an arm around him and slips his slippery fingers under the waistband at the back of Dean’s jeans that he gets the idea. He tips his pelvis forward, trying to give Cas better access as he works a hand down the back of his pants. It’s rather awkward, with Dean on his lap and his pants pulled tight across his backside with the way his legs are splayed, and Cas can only get a couple fingers teasing down the crack of his ass before Dean lets out a frustrated huff. 

“Wait,” he says against Cas’s mouth. “Let me - ” 

He scrambles off of Cas onto the seat next to him, Cas’s hands falling away from him reluctantly. Dean kicks off his shoes and shoves at his pants and boxers hastily, getting them down and around his ankles. Cas chuckles at him when they get tangled, Dean trying furiously to kick them off, and they’re still hanging from one foot when Dean gives up with a “Fuck it,” and clambers back to bracket Cas’s lap with his naked thighs. 

Dean can feel that Cas is still smiling when they kiss again, hands returning to one another. The rain continues to patter on the roof of the car. 

This time it’s much easier when Cas reaches around with lube-slick fingers. Dean tries to concentrate on stroking both of them as they slide easily between his cheeks. Cas finds his hole and circles it with a fingertip and it’s too much for Dean to focus on at once to keep kissing him so he just breathes into the corner of Cas’s mouth, lips parted and wet. Dean pushes his hip back into Cas’s hand until his finger breaches him, smooth with lube and sliding in easily. Dean’s mouth falls open. 

His other hand coming up to cup Dean’s jaw as Dean jerks their cocks between them, Cas fingers him purposefully the way he’s gotten good at, despite the awkward angle. It isn’t long before Dean’s murmuring for more into Cas’s jaw and he adds a second finger. Dean starts to feel the stretch but it’s only fleeting, and worlds better with the lube instead of the lotion they’d been using before. 

Dean’s got a heat in his belly that’s urgent and insistent, flaring up as Cas drops his head to leave open-mouthed kisses across his collar-bone. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes into his skin, his hips twitching up into Dean’s hand and fingers probing deliciously inside him, three of them now. The stretch is pleasant and Dean tries to chase it, canting his hips back into Cas’s touch. 

“Cas,” Dean moans, and his voice sounds desperate. He should be embarrassed but he isn’t, too worried about that heat low between his hips. Cas’s fingers aren’t enough at this angle. He wants all of him. “Cas - ”

Cas shifts, and he hits a spot deep inside Dean that’s white-hot and Dean groans. He can feel Cas’s wet mouth, open wide against his chest and breathing hard. 

“I want - Cas, I want - ” He wants _Cas_ \- he wants Cas all around him and inside him and he wants him completely.

“What, Dean - ” Cas says without lifting his head. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

Fingers stilling, Cas pulls back at that to stare up at Dean’s face. His eyes are wide and Dean sees his throat bob as he swallows and Dean has just enough time to start feeling embarrassed before Cas stutters - 

“Yes, I want - can I - are you sure?” 

Dean nods vigorously, and if he weren’t suddenly a bit nervous he thinks he would’ve laughed at that - the first time he’s seen Cas so flustered. 

“Yeah, I want to, I want - I want you, Cas, can we - ”

Cas surges upward, a hand around the back of Dean’s neck to pull him down into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. His fingers still inside him, Cas pushes them deep and Dean needs him. He lets Cas stretch him open a bit more, rocking back onto his hand, before Dean reaches blindly for the bottle on the seat next to them. 

“Here,” Dean breaks away, sitting back to see what he’s doing. Cas slips his fingers from his ass and the sensation is strange and wet, making Dean twitch. He squirts a fair amount of lube into his palm. “Can I - ”

Dean glances up to see Cas nod, and for a second Dean is caught looking at him. Pupils blown impossibly wide, Cas has a flush over his chest and neck and his hair is a mess and he’s just about the most dazzling thing Dean has ever seen. Without preamble, he takes Cas’s cock in his hand, rock hard, and slicks him up. 

Tossing the bottle aside, Dean takes a breath. His stomach flutters, not entirely in a bad way, as he shifts forward onto his knees over Cas’s lap, guided by one of Cas’s hands grasped around his hip. 

“Dean, you’re sure - ” Cas says, other hand around the base of his dick. His breath is coming fast as the head of his cock slides between the cheeks of Dean’s ass and smears against the pucker of his hole, and Dean nods. Swallowing down his nerves, Dean braces a hand on the back of the seat over Cas’s shoulder to steady himself and begins to sink his weight down. 

There’s a long moment where nothing happens. Dean clenches his teeth at the increasing pressure and he’s about to shake his head, ease off, when suddenly the head of Cas’s cock is breaching the ring of muscle and it pushes inside. Breath blowing out in a burst, Dean blinks rapidly at the intense burn of it, and he stills. 

“Fuck - ” he breathes. 

“Dean,” Castiel says urgently, his voice choked and tight. He smooths a palm along Dean’s flank, soothing. “Dean, are you - ”

Dean breathes. 

“ _Dean_ , are - ”

“I’m okay,” Dean reassures, nodding. He releases his death grip on the back of the seat and moves his hand to Cas’s shoulder, squeezing. “I’m okay, I just - need a second.” 

Cas nods, licking his lips as his chest heaves. “Okay. Okay.” 

Taking a steadying breath, Dean braces himself and shifts, testing the feeling as he lifts his hips cautiously. He pulls almost off of Cas’s cock, the wet slide strange but not painful, and when he sinks down again he goes further than the first time. Cas groans loudly, both hands flying to Dean’s hips and gripping hard. 

“Fuck,” Cas gasps. 

That time didn’t feel as intense as the first, the burn not as sharp, so Dean does it again - pulls up a bit to slide back down, more each time until he’s seated to the base in Cas’s lap, stretched around him. The both of them are panting, Cas obviously doing all he can to keep still. Dean rakes a hand through Cas’s sweat-damp hair, giving himself a moment to get used to the breathtaking fullness of it and he feels Cas’s eyes on his face. 

“I’m good,” he says with a nod, and with that he starts up an easy pace, lifting his hips to drop them slowly back down. He feels the slippery slide, and he feels the stretch, but the pain ebbs and wanes as he adjusts to the breadth of Castiel inside him. 

He watches Cas as he rocks down onto him, the way his mouth is parted open a bit and he can see the glint of his tongue behind his teeth. His forehead shines dully with a thin layer of sweat, which Dean can feel cooly at his own lower back. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Dean,” Cas gasps out, him and his fucking mouth, just as Dean grinds down to feel a blossom of that familiar flare deep inside him, just briefly. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says. “Yeah, that’s - fuck, that’s good - ”

He quickens his pace, chasing the sensation. 

As Dean rolls his hips down, focused on the feeling of Cas filling him up, Cas gets his hand slicked up again and fits it around Dean’s neglected cock. Though it had softened a bit with the lack of attention it’s quick to refill. Having Cas inside him and stroking him at once is more than he imagined, and he moves his hands to Cas’s hair. Each time Cas swipes under the head it feels that much more intense paired with the slick slide of him, and it sparks something low in Dean’s belly that’s quick to spread, until it’s at the tips of his fingers and he’s trembling. Cas’s hips twitch in little thrusts, meeting Dean every time he comes down. Breath shuddering, Dean leans in to press their mouths together as they move. 

They kiss the best they can, but distracted as they are they’re mostly just breathing each other's air, mouths open and wanting. Cas’s hand moves quick over Dean’s cock, his other hand sliding up his side to splay over his ribs, to smooth around his back and up to his shoulder, to reach up and tangle in his hair. 

Dean’s legs are shaking, muscles bunching and twitching, toes curling, and it’s then that he realizes he’s going to come. He ruts into Cas’s fist and back onto his cock in turn, the heat inside him tightening and building. His breath catches in his chest and stays there, and it’s when Cas makes a soft, strangled sound and tightens his hand around Dean’s cock for a moment that Dean comes. He holds his breath through it, continuing to rock his hips as he spills over Cas’s hand and the jumping muscles of his stomach. He lets his breath out, slow.

“Dean, I - ” Cas chokes out, mouth on the side of Dean’s jaw, and it’s then that Dean notices how Cas’s thrusts have become erratic, finally losing the control he was carefully maintaining. 

“It’s okay,” Dean reassures. He pulls back to see the familiar way Cas’s eyebrows have come down sharply in the middle, how his teeth bite into his lip. “God, Cas, you’re so beautiful - ”

“I’m going to - ” 

“Come, Cas, it’s okay,” and Dean rocks down hard, once, twice - Cas wraps both arms around Dean and holds him close as he comes, his fingertips digging into Dean’s skin. 

Dean can feel Cas pulsing inside him and it makes him groan, flushed warm and panting. Rolling his hips a few more times as he works himself through the last of his orgasm, Cas presses his mouth into Dean’s sweaty chest. He kisses him, then again, before he finally lets his arms fall away and he leans back against the seat, breathing heavy. 

They gaze at each other as they both come down. Cas looks impossibly soft, slouched boneless in the bench seat with a gentle set to his brow. Dean reaches up and smooths his hair back from his damp forehead, leans forward and presses a kiss to his temple. He feels Cas’s hands slide up his sides and there’s a reverence in the touch. They breath together. 

The rain had stopped at some point but neither of them had noticed, the windows left damp and foggy. When they finally pull away from each other they do it slowly, gentle with one another. Dean hisses at the feeling of Castiel slipping from him, leaving an uncomfortable wetness between his legs. Luckily, Cas finds a rag in the footwell that isn’t too dirty, and Dean uses it to clean himself up. In turn, he cleans up Cas, carefully wiping his own mess from his stomach, then tenderly toweling the lube from his sensitive cock. The rag gets tossed away again, and Dean makes a note of throwing it in the trash later. 

They gets dressed, Dean untangling his boxers from the leg of his pants where they’re still around his ankle and wrestling them both back on. Cas hikes his own jeans up his hips from where they slipped down past his ass. As Dean tugs his shoes back on, Cas creaks the driver’s side door open and steps out into the rain-sharpened sunlight. Dean grabs their shirts from the footwell and follows, blinking against the brilliance of the sun. He climbs from the car and nearly stumbles, stifling a gasp when his shaky legs almost don’t hold him. Cas catches his elbow. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, concerned. 

Dean nods with a chuckle. “Yeah. Little wobbly.” 

Cas looks at him softly. Dean passes him his shirt. 

The wheat field is dazzling, glimmering with raindrops and gilded, almost too bright to look at. What was a dirt road is mostly mud now, the car sitting in a shallow puddle. Water drops with soft _plinks_ onto roof of the car from the few branches long enough to reach from the other side of the road. There’s an ache in Dean’s ass and his thighs are already sore, but it’s a pleasant feeling, knowing who it’s from. 

“Well,” Dean says, looking over the sparkling field. “We christened the car.”

Cas turns to him, chuckling. “Yes, we did.” 

Dean licks his lips, offers Cas a smile. 

“I, um… I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else,” he says, and as soon as it comes out of his mouth he’s not sure if it came out right, if it sounded too sappy, and he blushes. 

Cas’s expression turns tender and Dean has to look away again, clearing his throat. 

“Anyway,” he says, changing the subject. “We need to think of a color to paint it.”

“Alright,” Cas says. 

“Any ideas?” 

Cas makes a thoughtful noise. “Orange.” 

Cutting his eyes back to him, Dean makes a disgusted face. “What?’

“Orange, like the sunrise,” Cas says happily. 

“Ew, Cas,” Dean shakes his head. “That’s awful.” 

“With purple accents,” Cas adds, and Dean shoves at his arm with a shake of his head. 

“Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s laughing now. “Those are terrible suggestions.” 

“They are not,” Cas scoffs. “As a matter of fact, I think you should add spots to it, too, for visual interest - ”

Dean rounds on him, and Cas brings his hands up to defend himself as he backs away. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing he’s being a pain in the ass, and Dean advances on him. 

“ - green spots, to represent trees - ”

Cas is holding back laughter now as Dean backs him up into the side of the car. His ass bumps into it and Dean has him cornered. Dean plants both palms on the car on either side of him, boxing him in, while doing his best to hold back a smile. 

“ - but I think you need some yellow in there, too, for the sun - ”

“Stop talking,” Dean says, and he leans in and kisses Cas to shut him up. Cas laughs against his mouth but kisses back, their lips warm and unhurried against one another. There's the faint smell of artificial peaches. 

Their tongues swipe together, just briefly, before Dean pulls away. He opens his eyes slow, Cas already looking at him with a smile tugging his lips, resting lazily against the side panel of the Roadrunner. 

They regard one another, Dean leaning on Cas and Cas leaning on the car that Dean put back together, on some dirt road next to a rain-soaked wheat field. The sun comes slanting in, bright through the mist of the last of the thunderstorm hanging in the air, and Cas’s eyes are breathtaking in the light. They’re the fathomless, shimmering blue that they only get in this kind of sunlight. Like the shallow waters of the ocean just before the sun goes down and it shines in at an angle, like the iridescent scales of a powerful tail against bathtub tiles. Dean’s caught in them. 

“No,” Dean murmurs softly, warmed by the July heat and by having Cas close. “I know the perfect color.” 

***

“ _Shh_ , guys, keep it down,” Dean hisses as he pulls the slider shut behind him. 

“Cas started it,” Sam lowers his voice but still seems to have a hard time containing his giggles, splashing at Cas with both hands. 

“I _saw_ you start it, Sam,” Dean says with a roll of his eyes, his bare feet slapping on the concrete and a couple of towels in his arms as he makes his way over to the pool. “Why you’d start a splashing war with a guy who has a giant tail is beyond me.”

Sam splashes at Cas again, who turns his face away with a laugh before slipping under the water and out of sight. 

“Hey, no fair!” Sam complains as Cas disappears. He’s treading water between the shallow and deep ends, where his feet just about don’t touch the bottom.

With a shake of his head, Dean settles at the edge of the deep end where Cas's clothes are folded, letting his feet hang down into the water. He sets the towels beside him. 

Sam has way too much energy for the middle of the night, but no doubt it’s just the excitement. It’s not every day your brother lets you stay up late to swim in the pool with your merman friend. Though he shut off the motion sensor light to be safe, Dean isn’t too worried about them being caught - technically he’s the one working the night shift at the front desk, so there shouldn’t be anyone else around. John left around eight o’clock and is probably already three whiskeys deep at the Roadhouse. As long as Dean keeps an ear out for someone ringing the bell for service in the lobby, they should be fine. 

“C’mon, Cas, that’s cheating!” Sam gripes when Cas has been under the water for over two minutes, and is nowhere to be found. 

Finally Castiel emerges on Dean’s side of the pool, shaking water from the ends of his hair like a wet dog and grinning. 

“I’m not cheating,” he disputes. 

“Yes you are! We said no using gills!” Sam splashes again, but is too far away to reach him. 

“I wasn’t using my gills, I was holding my breath!”

“Fine, new rule - no holding your breath for longer than thirty seconds!”

Dean just watches, shaking his head in amusement. Every five minutes Sam’s making a new rule to try and level the playing field, and Cas just keeps coming up with ways to get around them. 

“That’s a ridiculous rule,” Cas says with a roll of his eyes, and he doesn’t even lift a hand but a wave rises in the surface of the pool, a foot high, and comes down over Sam’s head. 

“ _Hey_ ,” Sam splutters indignantly, shoving his sodden hair out of his eyes. “Okay, _that_ was cheating!”

“Yes,” Cas says with a grin, drifting casually on his back. “ _That_ was cheating.”

Dean cracks up. 

Skimming easily across the water, Cas floats towards Dean, meeting him where he sits on the edge. He pulls himself close with a hand on the ledge and smiles up at him. 

“Hello,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” Dean says, his own mouth pulling up at the corners. 

“You’re still doing alright?” Cas asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says with a nod, and he kicks his legs gently in the water as if to prove his point. “I’m good.” 

Cas looks pleased at that. 

“I’m going to get a floaty,” Sam announces from the other side of the pool, where he’s clambering out at the stairs.

“I guess your game’s over,” Dean says to Cas with amusement. 

“I guess so.” 

“How’s the water?” Dean nudges Cas’s arm with his knee.

“It’s very nice,” Cas nods, skimming a palm across the smooth surface. He tips his head thoughtfully. “Sam’s a good swimmer.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “My dad had him in lessons for a while.” 

Just then Sam comes clattering out of the shed, wrestling an inflated pool floaty with him. He knocks the broom off the wall on his way, wincing as it smacks to the ground. 

“Dude, you are _so_ fucking loud,” Dean chastises.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Sam hisses, righting the broom and being extra careful to shut the shed door quietly. He holds up the inner tube. “I got it.” 

Cas chuckles as Dean makes a disapproving noise. Tossing the toy into the pool, Sam slides in after it and climbs on. It’s not done very smoothly, and involves a significant amount of thrashing and splashing. He gives Cas and Dean a thumbs up when he finally gets settled. Dean shakes his head. 

Dean lets Sam hang out for a while longer. Cas creates a gentle current in the water, small swells that rock Sam in his inner tube and send it floating in circles around the pool. It’s relatively calm, but is enough for Sam to get a kick out of it without making Dean nervous. 

They play Marco-Polo, which Sam also insists that Cas cheats at whether he’s the one searching or the one swimming away. Though he couldn’t say exactly how Cas was doing it, Sam claims he must have some sort of echolocation or something. Cas just shrugs at that, grinning. 

When Dean checks the time, though, and finds that’s it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning, he announces that it’s time for Sam to wrap it up. He’s reluctant, of course, but Dean can tell that he’s tired because he doesn’t put up too much of an argument about it. 

“Are you guys staying out here much longer?” Sam asks as he grudgingly stomps back from putting the floaty away, probably afraid he’s going to miss out on something fun.

Dean shrugs. “I probably won’t be out too much later. I promise, you won’t be missing anything.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Sam says with a shrug. “I’ll leave you two to make out in peace. I don’t wanna be here for that, anyway.” 

With that, he slings his towel over his shoulder and turns on his heel to head for the sliding door. Dean scoffs, his face burning, but Cas just laughs. 

“Good night, Sam,” Cas calls. 

“Night, guys,” Sam says over his shoulder before pulling open the door and slipping inside. He waves before tugging it shut behind him.

“The nerve of that kid,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “I swear.”

With a soft splash, Cas swims up close. He holds out a hand and Dean takes it, using it to pull him in between his knees. 

“He’s right, though,” Dean murmurs when Cas gets his elbows hooked over the ledge between his legs and has his face angled up close to Dean’s. “I was planning on making out with you.” 

“Hm,” Cas murmurs, beaming up at him. “I was hoping so.” 

Grinning, Dean tips Cas’s face up with a knuckle beneath his chin and leans down and kisses him. Lips wet with the taste of chlorine but warm, Cas kisses him back happily. They make out on the edge of the pool, in nearly the same exact spot they had kissed that very first time those months ago. Cas crooks his arms over the tops of Dean’s thighs, Dean sliding a hand to fit around his jaw, and Dean feels warm all over. 

This is the best opportunity, right here where it’s just the two of them. It’s the middle of the night beside the pool, and Dean needs to quit being such a baby and just ask the question. 

He had wanted to do it earlier that day, should have done it, during any of the opportunities that he’d had. But the drive back to Bobby’s from the wheat field had felt so short, Cas sitting close on the bench so their thighs were nearly touching, Dean's arm in his lap. And then they were dropping off the Roadrunner and getting in the Impala, and they were heading back to the apartment, and he even could have done it then. But he didn’t have the words - they were fluttering madly inside him, stuck in his twisting stomach and he couldn’t get them out. 

Now, though, he could do it. He could pull back from this kiss, look down at Cas, and just ask him. Cas sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and Dean practices the words in his head - _Cas, will you stay here with me? Cas, I want you to stay._

He’s going to do it. Now is his chance. 

Cas nips his lower lip gently before letting it fall from his teeth. Dean pulls away, and opens his eyes. He’s just opening his mouth to get the words out, but Cas speaks first. 

“I think I’ve been in here long enough,” he says. “Can I come hang out with you in the lobby?” 

Dean blinks down at him, rather dumbly, caught off guard by being derailed. 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. He smooths his fingers over the wet hair above Cas’s ear. He clears his throat. “Yeah, of course.” 

Cas smiles up at him, turns his head to plant a kiss on the inside of Dean’s wrist. 

“Okay. I’ll dry off and get dressed.” 

Dean nods. “Yeah, okay.” 

Cas stretches up and kisses him once more, a quick peck that Dean’s too slow to reciprocate. 

“I’m, um,” Dean says. “I’m gonna go make sure Sammy’s brushed his teeth and stuff before bed, and then I’ll be back.” 

“Okay,” Cas says. 

Dean climbs to his feet. He knows he’s stalling. He leans down to push the towels and Cas’s clothes a little closer, in easier reach, before offering Cas a smile and heading for the slider. He leaves the door half open, intent on only being in the apartment for a minute. 

_This is fine_ , he thinks as he makes his way through the lobby to the apartment. _This is good, actually. Cas will dry off, and I’ll come back and ask him._

_Cas, I want you to stay. Cas, please stay._

Sam’s just climbing into bed when Dean pokes his head in to check on him. 

“You brush your teeth?”

“Yes, I brushed my teeth,” Sam says, settling beneath the blankets. “Cas still outside?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “He’s coming in, though.” 

Sam nods, curling beneath the comforter. “Can I go in the pool with him again tomorrow night?”

Dean chuckles. “Maybe not tomorrow night. Some other time, though, you can.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “Night, jerk.” 

Dean smiles, watching as Sam nudges into the pillow and closes his eyes. “Night, bitch.”

Flicking off Sam’s light, Dean pulls the door most of the way shut before heading back down the hall. He leaves the apartment through the door to the lobby. 

_Cas, I want you to stay. Cas, please stay._

He walks across the room to the open sliding door, through which he can see the surface of the pool, flat and dark. As he gets closer he catches sight of Cas, standing beside the edge as he buttons his jeans, a towel over his arm and his shirt still folded on the ground. Dean hesitates.

_Cas, please stay._

Dean takes a bracing breath. He’s going to step out there, and he’s going to ask him. 

_Cas, please stay._

Stomach twisting, Dean resists the urge to jab his thumb between his ribs and he urges his feet forward. He makes for the door. 

He’s just about there when Cas’s head snaps up, but it’s not to look in Dean’s direction. Cas looks up sharply, but he’s staring out to Dean’s right, past where Dean can see what he’s looking at, and Dean freezes. He stops before he reaches the doorway, at an angle out of view from the outside. He watches Cas straighten, and the color drain from his face, and his stomach pitches. 

An unfamiliar voice speaks, and Dean's blood runs cold.

“Hello, Castiel.”


	11. sinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rest assured... this chapter hurt just as much to write as it may to read. Please don't hate me, but also remember that I promised you a happy ending. <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Brief warning regarding creepy, sort-of-sexual violence/implications (not between Dean and Cas)

“Hello, Castiel.”

Dean pivots out of the doorway until he has his back against the wall beside the slider, out of sight. Heart pounding in his ears and his breath coming fast, he tilts his head towards the open door and strains his ears. 

There’s Cas’s voice, and it’s the least steady Dean has ever heard it. 

“What are you doing here?”

A sneering chuckle, one that comes from a woman and makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand on end. 

“You believe you alone can come on land, Castiel?” 

“Naomi, I - ”

“You’ve always thought of yourself as special, that’s nothing new. This, however, is more than we thought you had the nerve for.” 

“We’ve been watching you since the beginning, Castiel.” A second voice - it’s a man’s, and sounds even slimier than the first. Dean wracks his brain for the name that Cas had told him a while ago - Zachariah. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that.”

Dean’s abruptly reminded of a different night, months ago, when unease and the vague sense of being watched and the distant sound of a splash had him standing at the slider with a baseball bat clutched in his hand. 

“We didn’t think you’d last this long when you swam off, we’ll give you that,” Zachariah continues. 

“You’re only saying this because you were angry I got away from you.” The venom that Dean hears suddenly in Cas’s voice surprises him. “You couldn’t stand - ”

Zachariah scoffs. “We were angry, yes, but you think you _got away_ from us? Castiel, we _let you_ leave. Had we wanted to stop you, we could have.”

“ _Let_ me - ?”

Dean’s hands are balled into fists at his sides. He heart hammers in his chest and his own anger rises within him but his feet won’t budge. 

“We were furious,” Naomi says. “But we didn’t pull you home the day you swam away because we expected you to come floating back when you had realized your mistake. We didn’t expect you to have the gills to go through with - _this_.” She says the last word with an air of disgust, as though she finds it all revolting. “Walking with legs as if they belong on you - not responding to any of your family when we tried to make contact, frolicking around with - _him_.” 

There’s something lodged in Dean’s throat that he can’t quite swallow past. 

“You’ve outcast yourself,” Zachariah’s voice is disdainful. “Your family feels betrayed. Even Inias has stopped asking about you. You’ve gone adrift, Castiel, and you’ve torn yourself from your family in the process. Tell me - has humanity been what you’ve dreamt? Has it been worth it?”

Dean holds his breath, but he doesn’t hear Cas’s response before Naomi continues. 

“We’ve let it go on longer than we should have,” she says. “You’ve disgraced us long enough - no more cavorting around with the legged. You’re finished here, Castiel.”

It feels as though ice water has been poured down Dean’s spine. His fingernails bite half-moons into his palms where he clenches his fists. 

_Cas, please stay._

“Wait, but - ” Cas tries to argue. 

_Tell them no, Cas,_ Dean thinks. _Please, tell them no._

“You have until the next moon,” Zachariah interrupts. “And then we expect you back.”

“The next - ” Cas says, sounding frantic, but he’s cut off. 

“No arguing,” interrupts Naomi’s voice. “By the next moon, we expect you home. If you’re not, there will be appropriate consequences - more than what you’ve already incurred, that is.”

“But - Naomi, I have - _commitments_ \- here, I can’t - ”

“ _Commitments_. To the humans?” Naomi sneers, and there’s the sound of Zachariah scoffing. “To _him?_ Castiel, you have drifted farther than we had ever feared.” There’s a pause, and Dean can feel in the silence that Naomi is preparing to pull her trump card, and his stomach turns. Voice turned dangerously soft, she says, “What will Anael think of you?” 

There’s a long moment of quiet, in which Dean can imagine the look on Cas’s face - hands probably balled into fists at his sides as he stands and breathes, furious but with hurt dancing in his eyes. It makes Dean’s chest ache imagining it, and he wants to go to him but he can’t get himself to move. 

“Anna understands, she’s not like - ” Cas says, and there’s a plea to his voice, the anger slipping away like water between the fingers of cupped hands, and Dean knows he’s lost. 

It feels like a rock in his gut, like the ocean in his lungs. 

“What _Anael_ understands,” Zachariah says pointedly, “is that loyalty trumps all else. She knows the importance of obedience, and her only _commitment_ is to us - as it should be.” 

“The next moon, Castiel,” Naomi says sharply. “Give us your word.” 

There’s a moment of pause, a held breath. Dean stays very still. 

_Cas, please stay._

Dean’s heart pounds in the silence that stretches on impossibly.

 _Cas -_

“Alright.” 

Dean closes his eyes. 

“Alright?” Naomi questions loftily. 

“Alright,” Cas says again. “I’ll come - I’ll come home. Before the next moon, I’ll return. You… you have my word.” 

“Good choice, Castiel,” Naomi sounds pleased, and Dean wants to punch her in the mouth. “Perhaps you haven’t floated as far adrift as we thought.”

Dean can’t take it anymore. The desperate feeling in his chest rises into his throat and when it does it has the bitter taste of anger, and it finally pushes his feet to move. He shoves off from the wall and drags the sliding door open all the way and steps out onto the pool deck. 

All three of their heads swivel to turn to him, and Castiel’s eyes go wide. 

“Dean - ”

“Can I help you two?” Dean asks loudly, furious gaze snapping from Naomi to Zachariah and back. 

They look exactly as he expected - Naomi perfectly prim, brown hair artfully groomed, standing as though she has a stick up her ass; Zachariah beady-eyed with a smug set to his mouth, arms coming up to cross his chest. Wearing crisp grey suits, they both have a condescending air about them. They look down their noses at Dean with poorly-masked disgust. 

“Dean, go back inside - ” Cas insists with an emphatic shake of his head and a point towards the motel.

“So,” Naomi interrupts, doing a haughty sweep of Dean from head to toe with narrowed eyes. “This is the human, is it?” 

“This is private property,” Dean growls. “You should leave. And take the rotten fish smell with you.” 

Naomi actually laughs at that, and Zachariah lets out an unpleasant snort. 

“Listen to that,” Naomi’s lip curls. “Castiel’s little pet is trying to intimidate us.” 

She advances towards Dean at that, her steely gaze assessing him, and Dean has to resist the urge to back up. Before she gets close, though, Cas steps neatly in front of him. 

“Leave him be,” Cas says, voice low. “He has nothing to do with this.” 

“ _Nothing,_ to do with this?” Naomi repeats, her eyebrows arcing high, and it seems that surprise more than anything is what stops her in her tracks. “But he has everything to do with this, doesn’t he, Castiel?” 

She swivels her eyes back to Dean, leveling him with a scrutinizing stare over Cas’s shoulder. Dean refuses to look away, silenting fuming as he meets it with his own challenging glare. 

“Just as Inias described,” Naomi murmurs, inspecting him. “The boy with the seagrass eyes.”

Cas stiffens at that, his bare shoulders pulling tight. Uncomprehending, Dean breaks eye contact with Naomi to glance at him.

“That’s enough,” Cas growls lowly. 

“Do you see now where interfering gets you?” She continues anyway. “Washed up, Castiel, due to that one moment of intervention. Inias warned you against it, and now look what it’s all led to - ” 

“That’s _enough,_ ,” Cas repeats, but this time he voice wavers with desperation. “Naomi, please - ”

“ - and all of it,” she sneers, ignoring his protests, “for one human.” 

There’s a long moment where they regard one another, Naomi with her chin high and contempt in her eyes and Castiel breathing hard through his nose, hands clenched so fiercely at his sides the muscles of his forearms bulge. 

Not understanding, Dean is suddenly wary. 

“Zachariah,” Naomi says without breaking her stare with Cas, her mouth slowly turning up into a smirk and her eyes dancing dangerously. “If you will.” 

Pure delight erupts over Zachariah’s face at that, and Dean is inexplicably filled with dread. Cas’s eyes go wide with panic as he throws out a hand in protest. 

“Wait - no, Zachariah - don’t hurt him, _please_ \- ” 

Confused, Dean opens his mouth to ask what’s going on just as Zachariah turns to face him and his chest abruptly and violently seizes. 

Dean chokes. It feels like his lungs are collapsing in on themselves, so suddenly that he’s struck hard with the force of it. He gasps, bending at the waist and clutching desperately at his chest, clawing at the front of his t-shirt. 

“Stop - STOP - ” 

Blinking rapidly, his eyes streaming, Dean vaguely hears Cas’s frantic pleas as he struggles to draw a breath in. The pain is searing, and his airway is closing - 

“Cas - ” Dean gasps.

Distantly, he hears Zachariah scoff. “ _Cas_ , it calls him. Now I’m not sure who the pet is. Are you this human’s pet, Castiel?” 

“Please, let him go - stop it, _let him go_ \- !” Cas’s voice rises hysterically, but it sounds like it’s from far away as Dean’s ears begin to ring. 

He’s choking - he can’t breathe. His knees buckle, and he feels the cement of the pool deck cool and rough under a palm, and he’s going to die. He’s going to die, his lungs strangled shut - 

“STOP!”

As suddenly as it began, the pressure disappears. Dean’s lungs open up and he drags in a loud, laborious breath. 

Coughing violently, he’s resisting the urge to retch when a pair of bare feet come into view on the concrete before him and then Cas’s hands are on him - on his shoulders, on either side of his head, tipping up his face to get a look at him. 

“Dean - Dean, are you alright - ”

Through the tears pooling in his lower lids Dean sees Cas’s frantic blue eyes, his frightened expression up close as he kneels down in front of him. He tries to nod, blinking hard, his face trapped between Cas’s trembling fingers. 

“I’m okay,” Dean croaks, trying to pull away. 

“Dean - ”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Dean insists, reaching up to push Cas’s hands away. His own hands are shaking out of his control.

Zachariah makes a _tsk_ -ing noise of disapproval. “So pathetically dependant on air, aren’t they?” 

Cas straightens and turns, trembling with rage from head to toe and blocking Dean with his body where he sits back on his heels and catches his breath. 

“That was cruel of you,” Cas growls.

Zachariah scoffs. “Why? Only because he’s your favorite human?”

But Dean doesn’t spare Zachariah a glance. He only has attention for Naomi, who he watches warily from around Cas’s legs, because the expression dawning on her face has his gut twisting. It’s as if some thought has just struck her, some realization from Cas’s behavior. Her lips part in astonishment, eyebrows lifting in disbelief, and she looks taken aback. 

“No,” she says softly, and it’s as though she lets the word past her lips by accident. Cas slowly lifts his head to meet her gaze.

“You weren’t thinking of drying yourself out for this boy, were you, Castiel?” 

Zachariah stands up straighter in Dean’s peripheral vision. Naomi stares with wide eyes, and Cas stays perfectly still. Slowly, Dean gets to his feet. He sees Cas clench his jaw hard.  
The tension nearly palpable in the midnight air, Dean glances between Cas and Naomi with his stomach in knots, unsure of what’s happening. 

“Castiel,” Naomi repeats, her voice high and sharp, and Cas finally drops his gaze. 

His chin dips in deference, his eyes falling down and away. 

“Of course not,” he says quietly. 

“Look at me, Castiel,” she snaps. 

Cas obeys. 

“I said of course not.” 

Naomi stares at him for one moment longer, as if to make sure he isn’t going to change his answer, until she finally nods curtly. Slightly behind her, Zachariah visibly relaxes. Naomi puffs her breath out through her nose and tugs at the bottom of her suit jacket as if to straighten it. 

“Good,” Naomi says shortly, brusquely recomposing herself. “I’m glad you’re not as foolish as your brother.” 

Cas flinches at that, hurt flashing across his features. 

“Despite your objectionable insistence on following in his wake in all other matters.” Hands clasped in front of her and again standing tall, Naomi says it like an insult. She clears her throat. “Anyway. We must be getting back.” 

Zachariah nods in agreement. “I’ve done enough galavanting with the mouth-breathers, personally.” 

Chin lifted snobbishly, Naomi levels her condescending stare at Cas for one moment longer. 

“Keep your pet leashed,” she finally says with a sneer, “and remember our agreement.” 

With that, the two of them turn without even another glance in Dean’s direction. He resists the angry urge to flip them off as they walk away and out of the gate. 

As soon as they’re gone, Cas rounds on him. 

“Are you alright?” Brow pinched, Cas takes Dean by the shoulders, trying to get a look at him. 

“I’m fine,” Dean says, though he rubs the pads of his fingers over his sternum. “What the hell was that?”

“Are you hurt? Here, let me - ” Cas tries to splay his fingers over Dean’s chest.

“I said I’m fine,” Dean insists, pushing Cas’s hands away from him. “What did he do to me?”

Cas lets his hands fall, his mouth set in anger. “He was manipulating the moisture in your lungs. It’s - it’s a terrible thing to do, I told myself I would never - ” He rubs the pads of his fingers over his mouth anxiously. “Dean, I’m sorry, I - I should’ve known they were coming, I shouldn’t have - I let this happen - ”

Dean frowns. “What are you talking about? How could you have known?” 

He sees Cas swallow, glance away. 

“Cas, what?” 

“I thought I - last week, on our run, I thought I saw them on the pier.” 

Dean blinks. “Oh.” 

“When I looked again, they were gone. But they - recently, when I’ve been in water, they’ve - they’ve been saying things to me.” Cas finally meets Dean’s eye again with a worried look. “I mean, they always say things, but they’ve been getting more insistent. I’ve been ignoring them, like always, but maybe I shouldn’t have been.” 

Dean thinks of setting the tub up for Cas, and his reluctance when it came time for him to go in. He wonders about the kinds of things they’ve been saying to him, but after meeting Zachariah and Naomi he imagines that they probably haven’t been very pleasant. Dean swallows. 

“It’s fine. I’m fine, so don’t - don’t worry about it,” Dean says. He hesitates on his next words.  
“So… what did they want?” 

_The next moon, Castiel. Give us your word._

As much as he chest tightens at the thought, he needs to hear it. He needs to hear Cas say it. 

But Cas just looks at him with wide eyes. His mouth moves wordlessly on a few aborted attempts before he says, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Dean repeats. 

“Yes,” Cas says, and Dean doesn’t miss how his eyes flit away again. “I mean, they wanted - they wanted to see what I was doing here. They wanted to know where I’ve been.”

There’s a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth, rising up from his throat. It tastes like disappointment. Slowly, he asks, “They didn’t say anything else?” 

“No,” Cas says with a shake of his head. “No, that’s - that’s all they said.” 

Dean looks at him, his chest heavy and anger bubbling deep in his gut. 

“Right,” he says. 

Not for the first time, he thinks that Cas is a horrible liar. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. “Again. I’m sorry that they came here, that they hurt you - ”

When he reaches for him again, Dean steps away before Cas’s outstretched hand makes contact with his arm. Cas’s fingers hang there in the air for a moment, and he looks a bit stung. Dean glances away so he doesn’t have to see it. 

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Dean says to his feet. He clears his throat. “Listen, you should get some sleep. I’ve got a few more hours at the front desk, you should go back to my room.” 

He studies the cement, the coarse texture of the concrete. Cas’s feet shuffle in the edge of his vision. 

“Dean - ”

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean says. His tone doesn’t leave room for argument. When he forces himself to raise his eyes, it’s to see Cas with a wary, closed-off expression. Finally, Cas nods. 

“Alright.” 

_You… you have my word._

Biting back the bitterness in his throat, Dean watches Cas bend to pick his shirt and towel up off the ground for just a moment before he turns away and passes through the slider back into the lobby. He hears Cas pull the door carefully shut behind him but he doesn’t turn to look, pushing through the half-door behind the desk. 

“Dean.” 

There’s the vague memory of a vice grip around his lungs, and he rubs absently at his chest with the side of his thumb. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Cas stands in the middle of the lobby, bare-chested and worried. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. He says, with finality, “Go get some sleep.” 

He can feel Cas staring at him as he shuffles some papers on the desk. He keeps his eyes down so he doesn’t have to watch when Cas finally turns and disappears down the hall. 

When he’s gone, Dean collapses into the desk chair with a sigh. A glance at the upper corner of the computer screen tells him it’s past two o’clock. He rubs his eyes. 

As much as he tries to stop the thoughts from swirling in his head, Dean can’t keep them away. As hard as he tries to prevent himself from replaying the things he heard, the words repeat on a loop. 

_Tell me - has humanity been what you’ve dreamt? Has it been worth it?_

Disquieted, he feels like he can’t sit still. He moves some things around on the desk. He picks up a newspaper from beside the computer and stares blankly at the front. He tosses it back down, scrapes a hand through his hair. 

There’s one thing in particular that Dean can’t shake, as much as he tries. 

Cas didn’t get washed up because of that storm those months ago. 

Naomi and Zachariah had caused that storm out of anger because Cas deliberately swam away - and it’s only now that Dean is putting it together. He’d always had suspicions, always knew Cas was hiding something about that night, but he’s never pushed him on the matter. Now, he wishes that he would’ve. 

Cas came on land on purpose. 

Dean gets up and goes to the slider. Though he peers nervously through the glass, nothing moves on the other side. He turns the lock sharply, gives the door a tug to make sure it doesn’t budge. When he returns to behind the desk, it’s to sit and chew his nails with a leg bouncing, agitated. 

When he can’t take it any longer, he spins the chair around and grabs the calendar off the wall behind him. 

_The next moon, Castiel._

While he wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, he can guess. He scans the boxed days with his eyes. When he finds it, that little filled-in circle at the upper right corner of August 14th, he stares at it. The next full moon.

And it’s less than three weeks away. 

Nineteen days. And Cas gave his word. 

He shoves the calendar away from him, the pages fluttering. 

Dean doesn’t know how he gets through the next couple of hours, and he can’t really even say how he passed the time. But when Ellen comes through the front doors just before 4:30, saying that she couldn’t sleep and decided to come in early to take over for him, Dean’s so relieved he feels like he could hug her. 

“You look beat, sweetheart,” she says as she shuffles past him to put her things in the back room. “You go on to bed, you hear me, hon?” She calls through the open door, and Dean doesn’t have to be told twice. 

He thanks her and says goodbye before pushing distractedly out of the half-door and heading back towards the apartment. 

Slipping inside and shutting the door quietly behind himself, Dean hesitates in the hallway. It’s dark and still, the only sound of Sam’s fish tank gurgling if he listens closely. He stands for a moment, listening to himself breathe. 

The door to his dad’s bedroom is shut when he creeps softly past. The snoring from the other side is loud enough to confirm several hours spent at the Roadhouse, but Dean doesn’t dwell on it. 

He pushes Sam’s door open with a muted creak to tip his head in, finding the kid sprawled on his back and breathing deeply. For a long moment he stands in the doorway and watches Sam sleep - he’s always been envious of the way the kid could just knock out, not to be disturbed for hours - before he realizes that he hasn’t moved. Mentally shaking himself, he pulls the door most of the way shut and heads across the hall for his own room. 

When Dean steps inside, he isn’t surprised to find Castiel awake. Cas sits up in bed, blankets pooling around his waist. Dean can just make out the glittering of his eyes in the dark, how they reflect off the light of the neon sign coming in the window. The door closes with a low click, and they regard one another. 

“You’re finished early,” Cas says finally, when the silence stretches just about too long and Dean hasn’t moved. 

Dean nods. Dropping his gaze, he turns to kick his shoes off in the corner. “Ellen came in early.” 

He feels Cas’s eyes on him as he undresses. The weight of his gaze makes the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck prickle as he drops his jeans and tugs them off his legs. 

“What are you doing awake?” Dean asks without raising his eyes. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Cas responds quietly. 

Dean tosses his jeans in the hamper. Cas’s are on the floor, of course, so Dean snatches them up and throws them in, too. He finds the socks Cas was wearing earlier beneath them, and grabs them up with a huff. They’re chucked in the hamper with maybe a little too much force. 

“Dean.” 

Finally, Dean turns to face him again. 

“Are you coming to bed?” Cas’s voice is careful, his gaze wary. 

“I want to ask you something,” Dean says abruptly. 

Cas hesitates. “Okay.” 

For a long moment Dean stands there, in the middle of the room in his t-shirt and boxers, trying to get his thoughts together and ignoring the angry turmoil in his belly. 

“Naomi said something that I didn’t understand,” Dean says. He watches Cas’s face closely, can see his carefully blank expression in the dim lighting. “She said something about ‘drying yourself out.’ What does that mean?” 

Cas drops his gaze. 

“She mentioned your brother,” Dean adds. “She meant Gabriel, right?” 

Eyes trained on the bedspread, Cas doesn’t respond. 

“Cas.”

“Dean, I don’t - ”

“- wanna talk about it?” Dean scoffs bitterly. “Cas, you never wanna talk about it. You never wanna talk about anything.” He lifts his hands at Cas accusingly. His voice is rising in volume, but he can’t help it. “The amount of shit I’ve told you, man - shit I don’t tell _anyone_ , and every time I ask you anything you - ”

“There’s a legend,” Cas says. 

Dean falls quiet. He lets his arms drop back to his sides. 

Though he glances up at Dean, Cas can’t seem to hold his gaze for long. 

“It’s been told as long as I can remember,” Cas continues, picking at a thread from the blanket in his lap. “It says - it says if a merperson abstains from water for long enough, they’ll dry out.”

Dean swallows. “What does that mean?” 

“It means - that their tail won’t come back. Their legs would become permanent, regardless of whether or not they got wet again.”

Watching Cas avoid his eyes, Dean mulls that over. 

“Is it true?” He asks quietly. 

Cas shrugs, a small movement hardly perceptible in the dark. “There was only one of us who had ever tried it.” 

“Gabriel,” Dean says, and it isn’t a question. 

Finally, Cas looks up at him. 

“It was a long time ago,” he says. “It’s a dangerous thing to try - you know what happens when I go too long without water. I’m sure it’s incredibly painful, if it even works. If - if one were to survive it.” 

Understanding the gravity of what Cas is saying, Dean feels his shoulders sink with the realization. He swallows.

“Did Gabriel…?” 

Cas shakes his head, pulls the blankets tighter around his waist in an act of self-comfort. 

“We don’t know for sure.” They way Cas says it makes it sound like he’s trying to convince himself as well as Dean. It’s something Dean’s all too familiar with, and it makes a sharp pain blossom beneath his ribs. “No one has seen him since, but we also - ” Cas’s mouth moves silently, stuck on his words for a moment. “He’s been untraceable. All of us, we - we have a sense of where everyone is. It’s stronger in water, more accurate, but we can locate one another. That’s how they’ve known where I’ve been all this time.” 

“But no one can locate Gabriel?” 

Cas shakes his head. “Not since he washed up.”

For a few breaths longer Dean stands, feet bare on the carpet and thoughts and emotions swimming. Cas swallows, a crease between his eyebrows. Finally, Dean nods. 

He drops his head and shuffles to the mattress to drop carefully onto it. Crawling to his spot by the wall, Dean settles on his back with his eyes trained on the ceiling, and he waits for Cas to lie down beside him. When Cas sinks back into the pillows and they’re both lying still, Dean carefully counts his breaths. He gets to eight. Then twelve. Seventeen. 

“I’m sorry about Gabriel,” he murmurs into the dark. 

Cas shifts next to him. He doesn’t say anything, but he makes a soft noise of acknowledgement in his throat. 

Eventually, Dean rolls to face the wall. 

Several minutes pass, the two of them with inches between them but an ocean’s width apart. Dean waits for Cas to reach for him, but the touch doesn’t come. 

Nineteen days. He closes his eyes. 

***

When John tells Dean he’s got work for him around the motel the following afternoon, Dean’s almost relieved. Sam’s down at the beach with some friends, and Dean wasn’t sure what he was going to do otherwise. 

Castiel’s shift at Frank’s started at one o’clock. Dean hadn’t offered him a ride there, and Cas hadn’t asked for one. 

“Dean.” 

From where he stands by his truck, John flags Dean down as he comes out of the lobby at the front of the motel. Dean heads for him.

His dad wordlessly passes him a plastic bag with the hardware store logo, and Dean takes it. He peeks inside as his dad heaves his toolbox from the bed of the truck. 

“The keypad to get into the pool’s fritzed,” John explains. “I need you to replace it.” 

“It can’t be fixed?” Dean asks, taking the toolbox when John holds it out. 

John shakes his head. “I already took a look at it. Looks like water damage.” 

Dean’s stomach turns over. 

“Rained for over a week, so I’m not all that surprised,” John is saying, but Dean hardly hears him. He’s thinking of grey suits, and stony expressions, and what felt like a fist around his lungs. He had wondered vaguely how they’d gotten in, but hadn’t thought too much into it at the time. 

“Dean,” John says sternly, and Dean snaps his eyes up to his dad’s impatient expression. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Get to it, kid.” 

Sure enough, the thing is fried. After popping out the screws and prying off the front casing, Dean can clearly see the water damage within the little box of the keypad. He sighs, and pulls the new one out of the plastic bag. 

He’s just finishing up, tightening the screws on the replacement, when Sam comes around the corner with a towel draped over his shoulders. 

“Hey,” he says when he catches sight of Dean, and he heads over. “What are you doing?”

“This thing broke,” Dean says without turning around. “I had to replace it.” 

“It broke?” He can hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “Wasn’t it working last night?”

Dean just shrugs. 

“Where’s Cas?”

“At work,” Dean says shortly. He straightens up and punches in the code on the keypad. There’s a beep and a click, and the gate unlocks. Satisfied, he bends to start putting things back in John’s toolbox. 

“When’s he done?” 

“Huh?” 

“Cas. When’s he done with work?” 

“I don’t know, dude,” Dean says, exasperation leaking into his voice. “You should’ve asked him.” 

There’s silence as Dean snaps the lid shut on the toolbox. When he stands and finally turns, it’s so see Sam with his eyebrows raised and looking bewildered. 

“Oo-kay,” Sam says slowly. He looks Dean up and down, who glances away in irritation. “Is everything cool?” 

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean says. “Everything’s fine.” 

He brushes past his brother and starts back for the apartment. Of course, the kid follows him. 

“I saw Jo down at the beach,” Sam says, scurrying to keep up as Dean stalks past the line of motel doors towards their dad’s truck. “She said she invited you guys but you said no.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m busy. And Cas had work, so.” 

“Well, she and Ellen are going to Assateague again some time soon and wanna know if the three of us’ll come.” 

“I don’t know,” Dean says. “Maybe.”

“That means no,” Sam huffs behind him.

Dean rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to say something snarky back at him just as the door to number seven opens ahead of them. 

“I thought I heard you boys out here.” Missouri says in her feathery voice, stepping out to stand on her mat. 

“Sorry, Missouri,” Dean says as they reach her. “Sam’s got a big mouth.” 

“Hey,” Sam says indignantly, slapping Dean on the arm. “I do not. Hi, Miss Moseley.” 

“Hello, Sam,” she says with a distracted smile. “I haven’t seen you in quite a while - how are you, honey?” 

“M’good,” Sam says, smiling politely. 

“Just getting back from the beach, I see.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam says, but Missouri’s attention has shifted to Dean.

“Dean,” she says, and his stomach tightens inexplicably when her searching gaze falls on him. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?”

Under Missouri’s acute stare, Dean shifts from one foot to the other. He glances at Sam. 

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” he says. “Everything’s fine.” 

“And Castiel,” she says, worried brow pulling low over her dark eyes, “is he…?” 

Dean frowns. “He’s, um - he’s fine, too. He’s at work right now.” 

“Oh,” Missouri says, and though her eyes are still on Dean she looks far away. Her hands flutter in front of her as if she’s unsure what to do with them for a moment, before she reaches for him. Dean twitches but doesn’t flinch away when one of her palms comes to rest flat across his chest. Her eyes snap to his face. “You’ve got words tied up in you, boy.”

Dean swallows, eyes wide as he stares back at her. 

“Don’t let them flood you, you hear me? Don’t let them flood either of you.” 

At a loss for what else to do, Dean just nods. He holds his breath until her hand finally falls away from him. 

“You tell your Castiel the two of you need to come visit me,” she says intently. “You’ll come soon, won’t you?”

Dean nods again. Skin feeling hot and too tight, he itches to walk away. “Uh, sure. Um, yes ma’am.” 

“Good,” she says. “I’ll expect you.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says, taking a step towards the truck. 

“You two take care.” 

There’s still a troubled crumple to her brow when they turn and walk away, Dean anxious to be gone. Heart beating loudly in his ears for reasons he doesn’t quite understand, he tightens his grip around the handle of the toolbox. 

“What the hell was that about?” Sam hisses as they get out of Missouri’s earshot. 

“How the hell should I know?” Dean grouches. 

***

The following days are noticeably stilted. Cas goes to work at Frank’s, and joins Dean when he works for Bobby, and they watch movies with Sam and for the most part it doesn’t seem like anything has changed. But things are different. 

Cas spends more nights than usual in room one. He doesn’t ask to go in the pool, and Dean doesn’t suggest it. It’s been a while since Sam has complained about them being too “mushy” when he’s around, as he would call it. They sit on opposite sides of the couch, and Dean doesn’t brush his fingers low on Cas’s back when they pass in the kitchen. He doesn’t push into Cas’s space when they kiss goodnight, and he carefully distances himself. 

Dean wakes up before Cas on Sunday. John had left the day before, without more than a note on the kitchen table - _I’ll be back in a few days. Dean - you’re on call if Rufus needs you. J._ Dean had stared at it impassively for a moment before dropping it in the trash. 

The morning light slants in brightly as Dean stirs awake, and he squints his eyes against it. He lets himself breathe a while, eyelids drooped low as he becomes more conscious. When he finally blinks his eyes open, blearily, it’s to find himself looking at Cas’s sleeping face. 

Their feet had tangled over one another’s in the night, despite them falling asleep with Dean against the wall and Cas keeping a respectable, wary distance. They lie facing each other with one of Dean’s ankles crossed between Cas’s, and Dean doesn’t move quite yet. His eyes flit over Cas’s face - the soft set to his mouth, his dusky eyelashes fanned across his cheeks - and Dean tries to ignore how much he aches. Under the blankets, he drags the heel of his palm over his ribs.

Fourteen days.

As much as it irritates him, knowing full well that Cas has something to do with it, he slept better last night than he has recently. Lately, on the nights he spends alone, he’s been waking up rattled and unnerved, his mind swimming with things he can’t quite shake. Yesterday morning he had jolted awake and was almost sure he was going to find himself lying on the wet shore, sand in his hair and panicked people all around him, fussing over him, and having no idea how he’d gotten there. 

He watches Cas for a minute longer before rolling away and getting out of bed. 

They go to Bobby’s for a lack of anything else to do. There’s finally a stretch of several days with no rain in the forecast, but the sun doesn’t do much to burn off the muggy dampness in the air. 

With the body work done, the Roadrunner is moved around back near the garage, ready to be sanded. 

“You know what you’re doin’, kid?” Bobby asks, returning from where he was plugging the extension cord in inside the garage. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Dean says, taking the cord from him and connecting it to the electric sander. 

“I got a second sander, if you’re interested.” Bobby throws a thumb over his shoulder back towards the garage.

Dean glances at Cas on the other side of the car. He had let him pull the Roadrunner around to the back, and Cas hadn’t done a bad job. He had seemed a bit nervous, but had lit up with quiet pride when he’d put it in park and Dean had given him a gruff, “nice job.” 

“You wanna help sand?” Dean asks. 

Cas looks up in surprise and glances between Dean and Bobby. “I don’t know how.” 

Dean shrugs. “It’s easy,” he says flatly. 

“Okay,” Cas says carefully. “If it’s alright with you.” 

Dean shrugs again and turns back to Bobby. “Yeah, we’ll use the second one.” 

Bobby’s eyes flit observantly from Dean to Cas and back. “Sure thing,” he says after a beat. “I’ll get it for you and leave you boys to it.” 

When both sanders are plugged in and ready, Dean passes the nicer one over to Cas. 

“Here,” he says. “Flick the switch to turn it on.” 

Dean demonstrates how to use it. He explains how slow to go, how to move it so it’s sanding evenly, and how much pressure to use. Cas nods studiously, paying close attention, and Dean tries not to look at him for too long. When Cas seems confident enough, Dean moves to start the other side of the car. 

They work quietly, neither one saying anything. A few times Dean catches Cas glancing at him in his peripheral vision but he keeps his own eyes on his work. 

He does everything he can to avoid looking at Cas, because he can imagine the look of concentration he’s probably wearing as he sands - tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth and eyebrows drawn down seriously - and he doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t want to see the way his arms look, biceps and shoulders strong under his t-shirt as they flex to hold up the sander. And he doesn’t want to see how Cas looks at him when he glances over the hood of the car. 

Dean thinks he does a pretty good job at not getting distracted. 

A little over an hour in, Bobby wanders back to check on their progress, nodding in approval at what they’d gotten done. When he mentions the heat Dean registers for the first time the sweat he feels trailing down his neck from his hair. 

“Why don’t you boys take a break, come in for a drink,” Bobby suggests. “I got cold sodas.” 

“Sure,” Dean says. When he finally looks to Cas, who’s turning to set his sander on the bench, it’s only then that Dean’s eyes get caught on the way his t-shirt sticks with sweat between his shoulder blades, how it clings low on his back. 

Annoyed, at himself or Cas he can’t really decide, the words come sharper than Dean intends when he says, “Cas, shut it off first.” 

“Oh,” Cas hesitates, tilting the sander and turning off the switch. “Sorry.” 

When he turns away with a shake of his head, Dean catches Bobby’s scrutinizing look. He avoids his eye and heads for the house. 

Inside, Bobby takes a couple of sodas from the refrigerator in the kitchen and clunks them on the table. 

“Here,” he says gruffly. 

“Gee, thanks,” Dean mutters sarcastically, snagging one up for himself. “Make ‘em explode, why don’t you.” 

Bobby clucks his tongue in annoyance at that as Dean cracks open the can. It fizzes, and he puts his mouth over the opening so it doesn’t drip. He doesn’t miss how Cas follows his lead in his peripheral vision. 

“If you’re gonna complain about my hospitality, don’t accept my drinks, boy,” Bobby grouches. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles back. 

Eyes narrowed, Bobby scrutinizes him for a moment from where he leans against the kitchen counter. 

“Dean,” he says sharply. “I’ve got your paycheck in the office. How ‘bout you come get it.” 

His tone doesn’t leave any room for argument. Pushing off the counter, Bobby gives a pointed look to the door and practically herds Dean down the hall. Huffing a breath through his nose and trying not to roll his eyes, Dean does as he’s told. 

As soon as they step over the threshold into the office, Bobby rounds on him. 

“So you wanna tell me what’s got your panties in a twist, kid?” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Dean says, taking a swig of his soda. 

Bobby’s eyebrows go up under the brim of his cap. “I’m talkin’ about you actin’ like a pain in the ass.”

“That’s just my glowing personality,” Dean says, flashing his teeth. Bobby crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Oh yeah? And how come your boy Cas out there’s actin’ like he’s expectin’ to be clipped upside the head any second?” 

“Don’t call him that,” Dean snaps before he can keep the words back. He immediately regrets them, seeing how they send Bobby’s eyebrows even higher and make him blink, surprised. Dean looks away. 

“I don’t know why he’s acting like that,” Dean says. “Why don’t you ask him? Maybe he’ll tell you - because he’s not telling me shit.” 

With that, Dean brushes by Bobby and out of the office. 

He doesn’t stop there, heading for the screen door at the front of the house and shouldering through, letting it smack against the jamb behind him. 

***

He doesn’t remember hitting the water, or even falling. 

He remembers fingers fumbling at the front of his life jacket, he remembers his dad yelling, his face close, he remembers the feeling of the floor beneath his feet rocking violently, and then there’s water. 

It’s everywhere and he’s swallowing it, and it’s so salty that he chokes. As hard as he tries, he’s struggling to keep his face above the surface, he’s gulping for air but just getting mouthful after mouthful of the ocean and the current is dragging at his limbs until he’s surrounded. 

It’s so quiet under the water that it’s deafening, the pressure in his ears painful, and he panics. He thrashes - kicks hard, bubbles erupting from his mouth, he’s trying to keep the water from coming in but he’s spluttering. He knows how to swim, he’s been taking lessons, but he can’t coordinate his movements around the fear. He’s sinking.

He inhales water. It sears all the way down to his lungs, seizes more than the dread gripping his chest, and he thinks he’s going to die. He’s drowning, all the air expelled from him and replaced instead with the ocean, and he’s gagging on it -

But then something is there with him, suddenly. It’s close, nearby him in the water. Even with terror clenching his muscles he feels its presence. He slows. 

He tries to see, tries to swivel his head towards it but he has no concept of direction and his eyes burn with saltwater. It doesn’t touch him, keeping a careful distance, but he can feels its watchful eyes on him and he’s terrified. It peers at him, curious.

His lungs scorching, Dean has one last thought that he needs to escape, swim away, but a darkness is creeping into his vision from the corners and he can’t fight the sudden sluggishness of his limbs. 

It reaches for him, and he can’t scream. He floats, suspended in the water, and all he can do is squeeze his eyes shut as everything erupts in a blinding light, so bright it sears behind his eyelids, and all he knows is the light and the grip it has on his shoulder and the water rushing around him, until he hits the sand. 

Dean jolts awake, gasping for breath flat on his back and alone in his bed. 

***

Dean’s been trying to keep his temper in check, he really has. But to be perfectly honest, Cas hasn’t been making it very easy. He’s had that friggin’ look on his face for days now - eyes wide and earnest every time they’re leveled at Dean, searching like they’re trying to memorize the angles of him. It’s not much different than how he’s always looked at him, but now that Dean’s got a date in the back of his mind - twelve days away, now - it just pisses him off. 

Sam’s started to notice, too, which doesn’t help. Every time Dean’s short with Cas, or he doesn’t quite hold himself back before he lets out a snappy retort, Sam’s been shooting Dean looks that were at first confused but have been getting increasingly indignant in Cas’s defense. 

To make matters worse, Cas doesn’t even push back. It would make this a lot easier if he would, if when Dean were mean to him he’d stand up for himself, fight back, do _something_ other than fall quiet with a twist of his mouth and that fucking _look_. 

The days pass, and Dean waits for Castiel to tell him that he’s leaving. 

It feels like Dean’s holding his breath, waiting for it. His lungs are tight and his heart is constantly lodged in his throat as he anticipates the conversation - but days go by and still Cas says nothing. And each one that passes just serves to make Dean angrier. 

Of course, the inevitable happens sooner rather than later, and Sam confronts him about the way he’s acting. It was really only a matter of time.

The three of them had gone to Dairy Queen late, later than Sam should’ve been awake to be perfectly honest, and are sitting around a picnic table eating their ice cream when Sam asks Cas if he has to work the next day.

“Oh,” Cas says, and something odd in his voice catches Dean’s attention, and he raises his eyes. “Um, no, I don’t.” 

Dean frowns. “I thought you did.” 

Picking at the paper around his cone, Cas avoids Dean’s scrutiny and he shakes his head. “No, um - Frank, he said I didn’t have to come in.”

Dean mulls that over, a creeping suspicion itching at the back of his brain. “When do you work next, then?”

Cas still doesn’t meet his eye when he says, “I’m not sure yet.”

A heaviness drops like a rock into Dean’s gut as his suspicion is all but confirmed. His appetite gone, he pushes his ice cream away from himself. 

Dean doesn’t speak again until the walk back, that rock inside him still massive but getting easier to ignore the more he lets his anger grow to outweigh it. He tells Cas that he’ll set up room one for him when they get back. Sam and Castiel both turn to look at him, surprised, and Dean doesn’t want to see either of their faces so he keeps his own eyes ahead. 

Cas had just stayed in the tub the night before. There’s no reason for him to stay in there again the very night after - so sure, maybe Dean’s being unfair but the point is that he doesn’t need Cas in bed with him. Maybe he doesn’t need Cas, period. And yeah, maybe he’s been having nightmares every night Cas isn’t there, and maybe he dreads falling asleep to wake up underwater with his lifejacket gone and not knowing where his mom and dad are and he’s drowning, he’s inhaling water - 

But the time is approaching when he won’t have Cas there at all - tonight was just another confirmation of that - and he’s gonna be fine because he doesn’t need him. Might as well start now.

Dean avoids that stupid look on Cas’s face as he sets up the tub, the one that twists his stomach painfully tight and makes Dean want to scream at him. He leaves Cas in room one and heads back to the apartment, kneading his knuckles into the side of his ribcage as he goes.

Despite having told the kid to go get ready for bed, Dean finds Sam waiting for him in the hallway. He hasn’t even got the door shut behind himself before Sam starts on him. 

“What the hell’s your problem, Dean?” Sam says angrily. 

Gritting his teeth, Dean brushes past him towards the kitchen. “I thought I told you to get ready for bed.” 

“Yeah, and I ignored you,” Sam says, following close behind him. 

“I can fucking see that.” Dean heads for the sink, and the pile of dishes that needs washed. 

“Why are you being like this?” Sam demands.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean shoves the faucet on and gets to work. 

“I’m talking about you being a fucking dick for the past week.” 

Dean throws a glare over his shoulder. 

“Watch yourself, Sam, before I smack you in the mouth,” he growls. 

Sam just scoffs at that. “Okay, _Dad_ ,” he says, and it takes everything in Dean not to follow through, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw twinges. 

“Seriously, Dean,” Sam says as Dean scrubs a bowl with too much force, his shoulders pulled tight with anger. “What’s going on with you and Cas?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’re being mean!” Sam’s voice rises. “You’ve been treating him like shit, and he’s been moping around all week long, and you should see the way he looks at you - ”

Dean actually laughs out loud at that, sharp and bitter, because Sam doesn’t need to fucking tell him how Cas has been looking at him, he’s more than aware - 

“He’s my friend, too, Dean. And I’m tired of how you’re treating him.” Sam pauses, and Dean braces himself. “He doesn’t have to stick around, you know. If you keep treating him like this, you’re gonna push him away.” 

There’s a loud clatter as Dean roughly drops the dishes in his hands into the sink - they crash together, a miracle that nothing breaks, and Dean finally spins to face Sam, fuming. To his credit, Sam takes a step back, his eyes widening, but Dean is pissed enough to ignore the wary surprise on his little brother’s face. 

Dean wants to scream, he wants to shake Sam and yell - _“Don’t you get it?! He’s already leaving - he quit his fucking job and he won’t even tell me, it has nothing to do with pushing him away, I wasn’t enough to get him to stay and he’s walking away just like everyone else_ \- ”

He wants to break things in his rage he’s so furious, he could punch a hole in the wall and keep going until his knuckles crack, and he lets the fierce, angry words fill him all the way to the brim, encourages them to take him under because being pissed off is so much easier than admitting to being hurt - 

Ultimately, Dean says nothing. He stands there before his brother, absolutely seething, for a long moment, until finally he shoves by him. He leaves Sam behind, standing in the kitchen beside the dirty dishes and the running sink, and he stalks to his room. 

He slams the door behind him, loud. 

***

No matter how many times Dean snarks at Cas, though, so far it’s just been that - the sharp comments, the cold shoulder, the constant state of irritation. But the turmoil inside him is getting worse, rising steadily. 

It’s when they go to Assateague a few days later that Dean really snaps for the first time. 

As much as Dean really wasn’t thrilled by the idea of sitting in the car for an hour to go hang out on the beach with ponies, he still finds himself crammed in the backseat of the cab of Ellen’s truck bright and early Thursday morning. Sam had been excited about all of them going, and Dean had felt too guilty to say no to the kid. 

All their beach bags and towels are piled on the seat between Dean and Cas, and they can barely see each other over the mound. Dean has his elbow jammed against the window and his chin in his hand to watch the passing scenery, barely listening to Sam babbling from where he sits up front between Ellen and Jo. 

He hadn’t slept well last night. Cas had stayed in room one again, which recently has been more common than not, and as much as Dean doesn’t need him in bed with him, he’d woken startled and shaken more than once and was poorly rested by morning. It’s left him irritable and brittle. 

Ellen pays for parking and they all unpack the car, each of them taking something to carry. 

“Boys,” she says, “will you two carry the cooler?” 

Cas nods, moving to grab one of the handles on the giant thing. He looks to Dean expectactly. Pressing his lips together, Dean grabs the other and together they heave it from the bed of the truck. 

The beach is different here. The dunes are broader and have a lot more foliage on them, spanning for miles all the way down the shore. There are no buildings lining the water, no motels or shops or condos. It’s quieter, without as many people, and the crashing waves sound almost louder in their absence. 

“I’ve been reading a lot about the horses.” Sam’s voice breaks into Dean’s thoughts from his left, where he walks with a few towels under his arm and a chair slung over his back. 

“Oh yeah?” Dean grunts, adjusting his grip on the cooler handle as they get into the deep sand. Jo’s ahead of them, pointing at a clearing in the sand, and they follow her lead. 

“Yeah, you know how I thought they were fat? Well, apparently they’re not.” 

They reach Jo, and Dean and Cas set the cooler in the sand where she directs them. They start to unpack their things as Sam chats at them, Ellen setting up the umbrella while Dean fishes around for the sunscreen in Jo’s bag. 

“Apparently, their bellies are just super bloated because they eat so much grass that has saltwater on it - ” Sam continues, pulling off his shirt when Dean gestures at him. He turns around and lifts his arms. “ - and then they have to drink extra water because the salt dehydrates them.”

“Hm.” 

Dean squirts sunscreen into his palm and slaps it onto Sam’s shoulders, ignoring his grumbles of complaint at the cold. 

“Sam, wanna go in the water?” Jo asks as she hangs her shorts under the umbrella.

“Yeah!” 

Dean grabs the kid’s arm before he can dart off. 

“Hang on, dude,” Dean says, spinning him around. “Put this on your face first.” 

Though he rolls his eyes, Sam stands still long enough for Dean to smear sunscreen on his cheeks. 

“Rub that in or it’ll just wash off,” Dean directs, snapping the cap closed and letting Sam run off towards the water with Jo, watching him hastily wipe the sunscreen over his face as he goes. 

“That’s for sure gonna wash off immediately,” Dean mutters to himself with a shake of his head, and Cas chuckles beside him. 

Dean glances over at him. Having undressed to just the blue swim trunks that are officially his by now, Cas watches Sam and Jo splash into the water. With him looking the other way, Dean lets his eyes linger. 

He hasn’t been allowing himself to look at Cas very closely lately. Safe in the fact that Cas doesn’t know he’s doing it, Dean takes in the sight of him - the sun falling into the dips of his collarbones, the angles of his hips and how they slope out of the top of his swim trunks, the way his hair has been curling distractingly around his ears in the humidity. That, Dean’s been trying not to notice for days now. 

He looks to Cas’s face as he gazes out over the expansive ocean, and Dean imagines that his eyes are rather wistful. 

Mouth twisting, Dean turns away. 

“You boys want this to lay on?” Ellen asks, holding out a beach blanket from her bag. 

“Sure,” Dean says with a nod as he takes it from her. “Thanks.” 

Dean throws the blanket over the ground as Ellen opens her book in her chair, and he makes sure Cas’s side of it falls under the shade of the umbrella. They settle on it, Cas on his side of the blanket and Dean on the other, on his belly. He tucks his face into his arms. 

With the August sun beating down on his shoulders, no less hot than it’s been for months, Dean lies still. He feels Cas shift the sand a few times just a couple feet to his right, but he doesn’t lift his head. 

As exhausted as he is, Dean doesn’t doze off. He listens to his own breathing, how it echoes in the cavern created by his folded arms. He listens to his heartbeat in his ears, and he doesn’t think about the countdown ticking inside him and between them, marked by each crashing swell of the tide. 

He doesn’t know how long they lay there, Dean with his head turned away and Cas doing who knows what, when Sam and Jo come tromping back up the beach. 

“Hey!” Sam calls, out of breath. Dean grudgingly lifts his head and squints towards them. 

“There’s a herd of ponies over there,” Jo says with a tilt of her head, she and Sam veering off towards the right. “We’re gonna go look, you guys coming?” 

Pushing up onto his hands, Dean twists to see where they’re headed. Sure enough, he spots a small herd of horses just barely in sight around the corner of a dune, their backs visible over the sand. 

“Do you want to go see?” 

Dean turns to find Cas looking at him carefully. His gaze flicks briefly over Cas’s face, his sedate expression and hopeful eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean says. 

Cas climbs to his feet and Dean only hesitates a moment before he follows. The two of them trudge after Jo and Sam through the hot sand. 

There are a handful of horses around the side of the low dune, nosing through the sand for the sparse shoots of grass. One looks rather young, sticking close to the side of what must be its mother. They don’t raise their heads at the growing collection of people who have wandered over to peer at them. 

“Not too close, Sam,” Dean warns as he and Cas catch up. 

“Do you see the baby?” Sam asks, excited. 

“Aw, it’s pretty cute,” Jo says, a hand on her hip and the other shielding her eyes from the sun.

Dean squints at them with only mild interest. They’re not doing anything very exciting, other than chewing grass and stomping at flies. He lets his eyes wander to the other people standing around. 

There’s a small child standing with his mother, just a toddler with his one hand in his mouth and his other fist clutched around the woman’s first two fingers. Dean watches the kid stare at the ponies for a moment before letting his eyes slide past. 

There’s an older couple with a camera, who aren’t very interesting, and there’s a group of boys probably a few years younger than them who are openly ogling at Jo. Dean glares at them until they catch his eye and all look away. 

Dean’s gaze trails the rest of the way around the half-circle, until it finally lands on Cas. He’s on the other side of Jo, and he’s not paying the ponies any attention. His eyes are on Dean, and his expression is soft and it’s lost and it makes Dean’s stomach ache. He drops his eyes before Cas does.

The ponies wander a bit in search of better grass, and Sam finally grows bored of watching them. The group of people standing around thins out as they too disperse, going back to their respective chairs and games of catch. As the four of them turn to head back to Ellen and their own space, Jo mentions something about reading her book for a while. Sam announces that he’s going to dig for sand crabs, and Cas catches Dean’s arm. 

Dean turns, glancing down at Cas’s fingers curled around his wrist. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Cas asks. 

Dean hesitates. He throws a look over his shoulder towards Jo and Sam, who had jogged ahead to where Ellen sits under their umbrella. 

“Please,” Cas adds, and Dean meets his gaze.

“Um,” Dean says.

Cas tilts his head down the beach in indication, gives a tiny smile that’s equally cautious and hopeful. 

Dean swallows. “Yeah, alright.” 

Sliding his arm out of Cas’s grasp, Dean shoots one last glance towards Sam and the Harvelles before following Cas the other way along the shoreline. 

They walk a few meters up from the water, a careful distance from the low tide. Out of habit, Dean puts himself between Cas and the ocean. 

Neither says anything for quite a while. The quiet is heavy, just on the wrong side of awkward, and Dean can’t help but shoot a glance or two at Cas out of the corner of his eye. 

“Look,” Cas says with a point, and Dean lifts his head. “There are more ponies up there.” 

Sure enough, there’s a herd larger than the last that’s milling about on the edge of the water up ahead. The group of people standing around looking at them is bigger, too, and Dean and Cas stop on the outskirts to join them for a moment. People point and chatter as one of the horses drops down to roll in the wet sand. Dean watches them idly. 

“You’ve been doing that a lot recently.” 

Cas’s quiet voice comes from close to his right. Not knowing what he’s talking about, Dean turns and finds Cas’s eyes cast downward, to where Dean is jabbing a thumb between his ribs. He drops his hand. 

“Yeah, well,” Dean says. He trains his stare back on the ponies, but he can barely see them over the shoulders of the people in front of him. 

“Your stomach’s been hurting?” 

“My stomach always hurts, Cas.” 

_And you fucking asking me about it doesn’t help_ , he thinks, and his gut gives a twinge to emphasize. 

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you - ” 

“Just drop it, would you?” Dean growls. 

“The bruises are back.” 

Finally, Dean turns to level Cas with a dangerous glare, his jaw clenched tight. He’s louder than he intended when he snaps, “I said leave it, Cas.” 

Cas holds his gaze. He meets Dean’s anger with eyes that are sincere and somber, and it’s that look that’s starting to make Dean feel sick. Cas studies his face until Dean can no longer stand it, and he turns away. Shaking his head, he splits off from the group and continues down the beach. 

Cas follows closely behind. 

“Dean.”

Tromping through the sun-warmed sand and glaring at his feet, Dean ignores him.

“Dean, wait - ”

“You’re the one who wanted to go for a walk, Cas. Keep up.” 

“Dean, I want to talk to you about something.” 

Finally, Dean stops in his tracks. Behind him, Cas pulls up, too. 

Dean’s heart suddenly kicks up in his chest. 

In the back of his mind he’d sort of known, as soon as Cas had asked him to go for a walk, that this was his plan. His mouth goes dry. 

This is it. 

Cas was going to walk Dean out here, past where Sam and Jo and Ellen can hear them, and he was going to tell him that he’s leaving. 

All of a sudden, Dean’s not sure if he can stand to hear it. Now that he knows it’s coming, he feels sick. He can feel them viscerally, the few days they have left. Breath catching in his throat before it can even reach his lungs, he slowly turns to face Cas. 

Standing with his arms at his sides, Cas looks lost. His fists clench and unclench nervously, and Dean’s gut twists fiercely. This is it. This is the end.

He sees Cas inhale. 

“I think that you should go to college.” 

Stunned, Dean stills. His heartbeat echos in his ears, and the tide crashes a few meters to his right but it sounds distant. He stares at Cas, blinks.

“You need to. You shouldn’t stay here.” 

When Dean still doesn’t answer, Cas glances away anxiously. 

“I know that you - I understand that you don’t like to talk about it. But, I - I know that you want to go. And I think that you should, that - ” Cas swallows, shuffles his feet in the sand. “ - that you shouldn’t stay around here just because your father wants you to.” 

They stare at each other. Cas bites his lip.

“You need to do what’s right for you, and not what your father - ”

Finally, Dean breaks his silence. 

“This is a joke, right?”

Cas opens his mouth wordlessly, eyes wide and nervous. 

“I mean, seriously. You’ve got to be joking.” 

“No, Dean - ” Cas starts, but Dean’s shaking his head and he lets out a scoff that’s like sea glass in his throat, dangerously sharp. 

“You’re actually serious?” Dean asks. 

“I - ” 

“I can’t fucking believe you, Cas,” Dean says, and he means it. He ignores the hurt that flashes over Cas’s features. “You’re going to lecture me about this? _You?_ ” 

“Dean - ”

“About how _I_ should disobey my family?” 

Dean actually chuckles but it’s humorless and out of control. It bursts out of him painfully and he’s so angry his hands shake - because he understands, completely, better than Cas knows he does, why Cas is saying what he is.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, saying this shit to me, man,” Dean growls. He points at Cas accusingly, stepping closer across the sand, but Cas holds his ground. “You, of all fucking people, have no right to tell me - ”

“Admit it, Dean, you don’t want to stay here - ”

“Why are you saying this, Cas?” Dean stares straight at him and it’s a challenge. He’s daring Cas to tell him, now, to stop being such a fucking coward and just tell him - “Huh?” 

Cas’s gaze flicks over Dean’s face. “I only want what’s best for you, and - ”

“Why now? Tell me, honestly. Why are you saying this shit now?”

He wants Cas to say he’s leaving, now, because then at least he’ll have something to push back against, something to channel all his fury at. He wants Cas to say it because he can’t - _you’re only spouting this bullshit because you couldn’t grow a pair and stand up to your own family, Cas, and now you need me to - you’re leaving - you’re leaving me here because your family came calling and I wasn’t enough_ -

The words are jagged and barbed inside him, in his lungs and in his gut and he almost can’t breathe around them but he can’t say them aloud and letting them drown him is easier. 

Cas just gapes at him. 

“I - ”

Dean shakes his head. He turns away, turns his whole body so he’s facing inland with his back to the ocean and he doesn’t have to look at Cas. 

A long moment passes and Dean holds his breath, overcome with the things he can’t say and Cas quiet with the things he won’t. It aches profoundly, deep inside him, and Dean can’t help but dig his fingers into his side, past caring that Cas is watching. 

His voice is low when he says it, just loud enough to pass the distance between them.

“I guess we’re both cowards, huh, Cas?” 

Dean walks away. 

***

The party’s a stupid idea. It’s a goddamn idiotic idea, but Dean doesn’t care. In fact, it’s probably because it’s such a terrible idea that Dean agrees to go when Jo tells him about it. 

“I can meet you here and we can take the bus,” Jo says. “It’s up near Fenwick.” 

On any other day, Dean would’ve bitched about that - _we’re going all the way up to frickin’ Fenwick for a party?_ \- but he just nods. 

“Sure, whatever,” he says, fiddling with a pen where he leans on his elbows over the front desk in the lobby. “That works.” 

Jo uses her toe to spin the desk chair back and forth. 

“You think Cas wants to come?” she asks carefully. 

Dean presses his lips together and doesn’t look at her when he responds. “I dunno, maybe.” 

As much as it annoys him that everyone knows he and Cas had an argument on the beach yesterday, he can’t deny that it was probably pretty obvious. Dean had stalked back to the umbrella alone, only to be followed by a dejected-looking Cas ten minutes later. 

They’d barely said five words to one another since. Cas had slept in room one that night, but Dean hadn’t set it up for him. 

Dean’s been avoiding Sam, too, and the conversation the kid’s probably dying to have with him about the whole thing. Personally, he’d rather not. 

“Is he around?” Jo asks. 

Again, Dean shrugs. “Probably somewhere with Sam. I haven’t seen him.” 

Jo hums thoughtfully. Dean can feel her searching gaze on the side of his face, and it makes his skin crawl. Rolling his shoulders, his straightens up. 

“I’ve got some more stuff to do for my dad. Text me when you’re on your way tonight.” 

Shooting her an unconvincing smile, Dean pushes off from the desk. He leaves through the slider and heads off to find his dad. 

…

The bus ride is awkward. 

It’s obvious Jo is doing her best to strike up conversation, but every one of her attempts falls flat. Cas is trying to be nice, smiling and responding politely, but Dean’s brooding presence beside them has an effect on the atmosphere. 

Ash and Andy get on around 80th street, who knows where they were coming from, and even high as kites they seem to notice the tension in the group. They glance between Dean and Cas, send questioning looks Jo’s way. Dean tries not to roll his eyes and stares resolutely out the window. 

He’d wanted to get a lot drunker than he did, but all they had was beer. While he drank as many as he could before they’d left, it only resulted in a faint buzz in his limbs and did nothing to make him less bad-tempered. 

Dean gets off the bus first when it pulls up to their stop, not waiting for the rest of them. Some guy about his age bumps him on the way out, and Dean throws him a glare with a “ _Watch it_.” The guy shoots him a nasty look, and Dean clenches his hand into a fist and then Jo’s there, ushering him across the sidewalk. 

“We got a ways to walk, c’mon,” she says lightly. 

The further they walk, the more irritated Dean gets. Where the hell are they going? They’re wandering through the ocean side of Fenwick, past the shops and hotels and into the residential area. Finally, Jo pulls off to the right into a wealthy-looking neighborhood. 

“ _This_ is where the party’s at?” Ash asks, and Dean has to agree with him. 

His eyebrows go up in spite of himself. The house they approach is enormous, with a manicured lawn to match. Instead of heading for the front door, though, Jo leads them around back. 

Dean’s stomach twists, and he falters. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Andy says with a grin. 

“God, I love rich people,” Ash says appreciatively. 

“A dock party?” Dean asks. 

Down the slope of the backyard, grass flawlessly turns to sand as it gives way to a private section of the beach. There’s music coming from down below, a heavy bass that pounds in Dean’s ears, and bright lanterns that light the way down the dock to the end. Most of the people are concentrated there, on the point reaching the farthest out into the water. 

Jo, Ash and Andy head down the hill, jostling each other and laughing. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Cas murmurs, close to Dean’s right. Dean can feel Cas’s eyes on him, and he clenches his jaw. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Dean doesn’t look at him, and he follows the others down.

There aren’t a lot of people that he recognizes. A few are familiar, people who live here year-round that went to his high school, but most of them Dean assumes have houses in this neighborhood - seasonal places, where they only come for the summer. He spots a keg about halfway down the dock, and makes a beeline for it. 

Cas’s feet step into his line of sight while he’s leaning over filling a drink. Straightening, Dean offers him the cup. 

“Beer?”

“No, thank you,” Cas says with a shake of his head. His eyes flit around carefully.

“Suit yourself,” Dean mutters, lifting the beer to his own lips and taking several gulps. “Let’s go find Jo.” 

A solo cup already in her hand, Jo is talking to a group Dean doesn’t know a little ways further down the dock. She waves them over, and Dean goes grudgingly. 

Dean doesn’t really listen as Jo introduces them. He’s telling himself he only agreed to come to this party for the free booze, but even the beer is disappointing. He sets it down on the low railing. Getting drunk no longer has the appeal he thought it did, and he’s all too aware of the tide crashing below them. His bad mood is enough to distract him from feeling too nervous, but it doesn’t keep him from hearing the water lap against the beams of the dock. 

He stands a few feet away from the group and he sips his beer and he does little to make it seem like he’s enjoying himself. 

Disinterestedly, Dean lets his eyes flit over the people around them. They look like the kind who may own houses in this area - staying down at the beach for the summer to drink and party and spend their parents’ money. Lip curling, Dean wonders what Jo’s doing talking to these people. 

There’s a guy with a watch that looks more expensive than anything Dean owns, but he’s got a cigarette between his fingers and Dean thinks about asking him for one. The guy’s also wearing pastel-colored shorts, though. Dean rolls his eyes. 

He continues to let his gaze wander until inevitably it lands on Cas. A few people between them, Dean can just make out the side of his face, the curve of his nose and the edge of his jaw as he looks down to talk to someone. It’s a girl - dark hair and fair skin, and she’s laughing as though something Cas said was just hilarious, and she reaches out and puts a hand on his forearm. 

Gritting his teeth, Dean turns away. 

“Hey,” he says sharply, and pastel-shorts turns to him. “Can I bum one?” 

Dean nods to the cigarette in his hand. The guy looks him up and down, slowly and with superiority, and Dean’s teeth are squeaking they’re clenched so tightly, his blood boiling. Finally, before Dean can snap, the guy pulls the pack out of his pocket. 

“Thanks,” Dean says with a fake smile as he takes it, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He uses the guy’s lighter, too, the shitty plastic kind you get at the gas station, and inhales until the end burns bright and he feels the smoke smart his lungs. Across the dock, past the glowing tip of the cigarette and through the heads of some people, he catches Cas’s eye. With his thumb and forefinger, he takes the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. 

The girl’s still talking at him, her words just loud enough for Dean to catch through the crowd, but Cas is only nodding along distractedly as he looks towards Dean. 

“ - you come with?” the girl is asking, but she doesn’t wait for a response. “I don’t recognize you, are you from PG county? That’s where most of us are from, we’re all down here for - ”

It’s as she’s saying this, Dean only half listening, that his eyes move past Cas, his attention caught over his shoulder by a couple of people coming down the dock. 

Dean feels the blood drain from his face as he recognizes them. 

Alastair is leading, Azazel close behind, and it’s obvious they’ve already spotted Dean. The sickeningly sweet smile Alastair usually wears is nowhere in sight, and instead he looks absolutely murderous and they stalk Dean’s way. Briefly, the image flashes in Dean’s mind of Alastair treading water in the deep end of a pool, dripping wet and furiously yelling profanities. It seems that Alastair hasn’t forgotten, either. 

The alarm must show on Dean’s face because Cas frowns across the space between them, suddenly concerned. He turns away from the girl and makes towards Dean just as Alastair points at his turned back and says something to Azazel, who nods. 

Dean opens his mouth, a warning on his lips and a hand raising as if he could stop it from where he stands meters away as Azazel reaches Cas and throws an arm around his neck from behind. 

_“Cas!”_

People shout and turn at the sudden commotion, and Dean’s feet are moving before he even tells them to. He’s shoving past people, eyes only on Cas as Azazel pulls him bent over backwards with the crook of his elbow tight around his throat. Cas’s hands come up and his eyes widen in alarm and he chokes out a _“Dean_ \- ” but that’s all Dean sees before he’s hit from the side and is sent sprawling across the dock at people’s feet, the cigarette bouncing from his hand and skipping across the planks. It rolls to the edge, and goes over. 

“Boy, am I happy to see you,” Alastair snarls from above him. Dean is scrambling, trying to get to his feet but Alastair steps forward and kicks hard. The toe of his boot cracks off of Dean’s hip and he grunts at the sharp pain, people’s feet shuffling out of the way as he tries again to clamber upright. “You think you’re funny, don’t you, Dean? Think that stunt with the pool was pretty clever?”

Dean has a sharp reply ready on his tongue but he doesn’t say it, straining to see around people’s legs, trying to catch a glimpse of Cas. He can hear scuffling, people cheering and stomping their feet, but he can’t see around the commotion. A hand comes down on the back of his neck. 

Alastair gets a fistful of his t-shirt and tries to drag him backwards, but Dean is ready. He uses the momentum to shift back onto his heels and he twists, fast, lifting his elbow and driving it into the side of Alastair’s head. Alastair stumbles back, and Dean uses the opportunity to spring to his feet and dodge away. 

“Dean!” Jo’s there in front of him, face pale as she squeezes past people to get to him. 

“Where’s Cas?” Dean demands. “Get Cas and get out of here - ”

Her eyes widen. “ _Dean_ \- ”

And then Alastair is back, growling primally, and Dean is brutally body-slammed from behind. His neck cracks with whiplash, and he stumbles into Jo, both of them going down. He hears Jo’s head thunk hard off the wood of the dock, a sound escaping her that’s more surprise than pain, but now, Dean is furious. Untangling himself from Jo, he spins and bounces up into a crouch. 

“Dean, don’t - ”

“Find Cas,” Dean snaps over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Alastair and his slimy smile. He straightens up. 

“There he is,” Alastair croons, his soft voice raising the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck. “I was starting to worry you didn’t have any fight in you, Dean.” 

“Dean - ”

“Get out of here, Jo,” Dean growls, fuming. “ _Go_.” 

He doesn’t find out if she does as he asks, because Alastair charges. Dean holds his ground, feet planted, and turns his shoulder into the force of Alastair as he collides with him. They both hit the ground. 

Splinters scrape Dean’s elbow raw as he lands on his side and skids, a grunt escaping him as the breath is forced from his chest. Alastair is on top of him and they wrestle, grappling at one another as each of them try and strike a sensitive body part. Dean’s trying to get the heel of his hand forced up into Alastair’s windpipe, but Alastair’s got his arms halfway pinned and Dean’s being blinded by the flash of more than one person recording video of the fight. 

“Squirm all you want, Dean,” Alastair pants as he forces Dean’s head turned with a palm on his face, pressing the other side of it into the wood of the dock. “I’ve got you, this time. Payback’s a bitch, huh?” 

Neck straining painfully, Dean groans, “Fuck you.” 

Alastair chuckles, a sickening sound that’s way too close to Dean’s ear, and Dean bucks violently. He gets a knee up, sharply, and drives it fiercely into Alastair’s stomach. That elicits a groan of pain, Alastair easing up on the pressure just enough for Dean to roll onto his stomach and scramble to get out from under him. Looking over his shoulder, Dean aims a kick at Alastair’s head as he struggles away. Though he gets an arm up in time to avoid getting stomped in the face, Alastair still takes most of the blow to the top of his head. 

“You fucking bitch,” Alastair growls, and the fury in his voice makes him sound that much more dangerous. He lunges again, grappling at the back of Dean’s knee and dragging him back down as he tries to get his feet under him. 

“Cas - !” Dean yells again. 

“Dean!” 

Cas’s voice is frantic and sounds far away - Dean hears Jo cursing, and what might be Andy or Ash, both of whom are completely useless in a fight - and Alastair’s long fingers tangle in the hair at the back of Dean’s head and he _yanks_. 

Head snapping back with a shout, Dean reaches up instinctively to get a hand around Alastair’s wrist. Dean twists, trying to break out of his grip, a piercing ache shooting up through his knees where they press into the dock, when he hears the unmistakable _schick_ \- Alastair’s other arm comes around Dean’s neck to the front of him, and there’s a bright glint that flashes in the corner of Dean’s vision. The people closest gasp, and some girl screams. Dean’s blood runs cold and he freezes. 

“Alastair,” Dean says lowly, his voice thick. His breath comes quick and shallow, his head still tilted back, eyes watering with the pain in his scalp, and his throat is bared to the blade that Alastair holds before him. Dean lowers both hands to shoulder height, palms open. His heart pounds. 

“That got your attention, didn’t it?” Alastair murmurs, the smirk audible in his voice. It makes goosebumps rise up Dean’s neck. 

The people standing near are no longer shouting excitedly, no one egging the fight on. They hiss to one another, “ _a knife - he’s got a knife_ ,” and shuffle anxiously, the only commotion still happening on the outskirts of the group. Where Cas is, and Jo. 

Alastair hooks his chin onto Dean’s shoulder, brings to blade closer to his face. 

“Woah, woah,” Dean says, tensing, his breath catching in his chest with real fear. “Hey, come on.” 

“What?” Alastair says softly. “You don’t like my shiny toy?” 

Almost gently, and agonizingly slow, he touches the knife to Dean’s throat. The cold edge of the blade makes Dean flinch. 

“Stand up,” Alastair orders. 

Dean swallows. 

“ _Up_ ,” Alastair growls, and Dean nods. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Slowly, Dean does as he’s told. He gets to his feet, carefully straightening as much as Alastair will allow, paying close attention to the sharp edge against his Adam’s apple. Once he’s standing, Alastair backs up and he pulls Dean with him. Stumbling, Dean does his best not to lose his footing as Alastair drags him all the way to the railing. 

When they’re right up against it, his breath hot and repulsive against the side of Dean’s neck, Alastair whispers in his ear. 

“I know what you’re afraid of...” 

Dean’s stomach drops. 

“Alastair,” he croaks. “Please - ” 

And he’s not even embarrassed by the desperation in his own voice, so overcome with a sudden and debilitating terror as he strains to get a glimpse of the crashing ocean below them. Crowded against the railing, Alastair’s chest to his back and his voice in his ear, Dean starts to panic. 

“Alastair, Alastair, don’t - ” He tries to squirm out of the grip on his hair, can’t keep himself from struggling as his chest seizes with terror and he’s starting to have trouble pulling in a breath. “Don’t, please, _please_ \- ”

He’s truly pleading now, desperate. He should be humiliated but he’s silenced by the blade pressing more deliberately into the delicate place beneath his jaw, and the people watching gasp, are whispering about calling the police, and Alastair shushes him. 

“Sh-sh-shh…” His mouth brushes the skin below Dean’s ear and Alastair likes this, is getting joy out of it, Dean helpless and trembling and feeling like he’s going to be sick. Lips against his ear, Alastair whispers, “How about that swim, Dean?” 

And Alastair shoves Dean forward, bends him over the low railing until he’s staring at the ocean far below him, and he’s babbling now - “no, no, Alastair, _stop_ , please - _please_ don’t, Alastair - ”

But Alastair laughs, hideous and disgusting. “As much as I like hearing you beg - ” 

With fistfulls of his shirt and the knife to the back of Dean’s neck, Alastair heaves Dean off his feet. The people around them panic and Dean thrashes - “stop, STOP, _don’t do this_ ” - hardly registering the bite of the knife beneath the line of his hair as he struggles or the trickle of blood down his spine -

" _DEAN_ \- ”

Cas’s voice, and Dean only gets a single glimpse of him - disheveled and wide-eyed, followed by a bleeding Jo as he shoves his way through the front of the crowd - 

People scream, and Dean goes over. 

…

It was sunny, that day. 

There was the salt water, the fear, the pain in his lungs, and there was the sunlight glinting through the surface of the water. He was sinking. 

He doesn’t remember falling, or hitting the water. At first he was on the boat, and then he was sinking. 

He had thrashed, at first, struggled to find the surface, where the sun was coming in, but after the third time he inhaled water he couldn’t coordinate his limbs anymore. 

His dad had been yelling, rushing back and forth, and Dean’s lifejacket wasn’t buckled. The fire was hot, hotter than the sun and closer. Dean couldn’t remember where his mom went, or the last time he saw her. 

And then he was sinking. His arms and legs were being tugged by the current, tugged _down_ , and he didn’t know where his dad or his mom were and he couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t breathe and he was going to _drown_ , drown and die with his lungs burning and the ocean claiming him as its own. 

It was sunny, the sunlight coming through the surface of the water, but his vision was starting to go dark. 

And then it was there. 

…

It’s dark, now, and Dean can’t tell which direction is which. 

He doesn’t know where the shore is. He was on the dock, and now he’s underwater and he’s it’s in his lungs. His eyes burn with saltwater as he strains them, limbs thrashing, but the current is strong and he can’t get his muscles to cooperate. 

He’s drowning - the ocean fills his mouth and his throat and that’s all there is. When he tries to scream all that comes out are bubbles, and he’s sinking. 

He’s going to drown - 

It could be the panic or the water filling them, but his lungs seize and scream for air and Dean can’t remember ever being this terrified in his life, but he must have been. The first time. 

He’s slowing down, his limbs getting heavier and heavier, sluggish. A blackness is creeping in from all sides, his vision blurring and he can’t even see his hands in front of him, it’s so dark. 

The shadows creep in and he’s about to succumb to them when he feels the water shift beside him, buffet him sideways, and then -

A light erupts - it’s blinding, so bright it’s overwhelming, and Dean turns his face away with his eyes squeezed shut against the devastating white. 

It slowly recedes, and when it does, Dean knows he’s not alone. 

It’s here, like before. He feels its presence, just like he has every other time. He slows. 

He wants to swim away, has the overwhelming desire to escape, but he turns towards it. His vision is blurry under the water but there’s still some light, from the glow emanating from it -

\- eyes even deeper than the ocean and just as wide, a powerful tail that gleams and shimmers - it doesn’t take the time to peer at him, this time. 

Castiel reaches for him.

Dean doesn’t fight him, let’s himself be pulled through the current. 

They break the surface, just as Dean thinks his lungs are going to collapse, and he heaves in air. He doesn’t know where they are, the dock may be above them but his head spins as he coughs and splutters, dizzy, and he doesn’t get much of a chance to recover. Cas’s face is close. 

_“Hold your breath.”_

And Dean has just enough time to fill his lungs with a large draw of oxygen before they go under again.

Water rushes loudly past Dean’s ears. There’s that and the grip on his shoulder, the heat of Castiel at his back, and nothing else. 

He’s six years old and his lifejacket is gone and he doesn’t know where his parents are. He feels more scared than he ever has, the sunlight blinding him as it gleams off the water. 

The ocean is everywhere and it’s night time - his heart pounds in his ears and he desperately holds his breath. 

Finally, after what feels impossibly like hours, he comes up on air. He hits the sand. 

Dean collapses on the wet shore. He half expects to be met by people around him, rushing to help him where he’s washed up, asking him where his parents are - but it’s dark this time, and it’s just the two of them. 

He heaves in lungful after lungful of air, coughing up water until he retches. It’s salty as it comes up, hits the sand between his hands as he clambers onto land. Distantly, he recognizes it as the strip of beach behind the Bunker. Stomach clenching with fear, Dean flips onto his ass and scrambles backwards up the shore on his heels and hands, his breath searing in and out. His chest burns as he heaves and splutters, his hair wet and hanging over his forehead where it drips into his eyes. 

Half in the water and half out, Cas is propped on his palms where the foamy tide borders the sand, his tail huge where is extends behind him, his chest bare and his expression anxious. 

“Dean, are you hurt?”

He reaches a hand out towards Dean’s ankle, but Dean sharply pulls his legs up out of his reach. Surprise flashes over Cas’s features, and he draws his hand back into his own space, wary. 

“There’s blood on your shirt, let me - ” 

“It was you.” 

Cas falls quiet. In the moonlight, Dean sees him pale. 

Heart thudding madly and trembling out of control, with water dripping from his lips and soaking him all the way to his socks, Dean stares with wide eyes. 

“It was you,” he says again. 

“Dean - ” Cas says, and he reaches for him again. When Dean jerks away a second time, there’s no mistaking the expression in Cas’s eyes. He looks afraid. 

“All those years ago,” Dean continues, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His voice sticks. “The accident, you - you were there, you p-pulled me out of the water. It was you, this whole time.” 

Cas stares back at him, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. His mouth moves wordlessly, but it isn’t until he breaks eye contact, glances down and away, that Dean’s suspicion is truly confirmed. 

Feeling sick, soaking wet and covered in sand, Dean stares. 

“You knew.” 

“Dean, I - ”

“Castiel,” Dean’s voice tremors but it’s sharp, enough to get Cas to raise his eyes. “Did you know?” 

Castiel stares, eyes wide and stricken. The tide crashes, recedes, and then repeats. There’s only that, the two of them regarding one another on the wet shore under the moonlight, the ocean reaching and pulling.

“I… recognized you, yes.” 

Dean looks away. 

“Let me explain - ”

“You knew, and you didn’t say anything?” Dean demands. 

“I didn’t want - I was - Dean, you have to understand - ”

But Dean’s breath is coming faster now, is sticking in his chest more and more each time he tries to draw in air. He drags the heel of his hand over his sternum distractedly. 

“It’s been _months_ , Cas, and - and you _knew_ , and you didn’t - ”

“I was afraid!” Cas says, his voice high and it’s the first time Dean’s heard it tremble like that. “I wanted to tell you, Dean, I did, but - but then I learned how you felt about the ocean, I realized what it meant for you, and I didn’t - ” Cas shakes his head, and his brow crumples. He looks at Dean and he’s wretched and lost, and Dean’s stomach twists violently. “I was afraid that you would react like this.” 

Dean breathes. He looks at Cas and he concentrates on breathing, bringing air in and pushing it smoothly out. He breathes until he can match it with the tide, without it getting caught beneath his ribs. 

“Why are you here, Cas?” Dean croaks. “Honestly, this time.” 

Cas swallows. “I - ”

“No,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “I don’t want any bullshit this time, man. Tell me honestly.”

It takes a few breaths for Cas to respond. His mouth moves a couple times on failed attempts, until he drops his eyes to the sand. 

“What I’ve told you before, it wasn’t a lie,” he says, quiet. “About - humanity.” 

Dean waits. 

“I’ve always been - fascinated with it. Much to the ire of my siblings, I was curious, interested. I wanted to know about humans, wanted to experience - ” Cas shakes his head, glances at Dean and then away again. “And then, there was the day Inias and I saw the burning boat.”

Dean’s stomach turns over. 

“We were off playing a game, not far from shore, when we saw it. We heard it, first, heard yelling and such - ”

\- _Dean, come here - Dean, buckle this up, come on - Mary, oh God - Dean, DEAN_ -

“ - it was sinking quickly, and then there was a human in the water. A boy.” 

Dean breathes in. He breathes out. 

“I tried to go to him, but Inias stopped me. He told me not to interfere, we’re never supposed to - but he was drowning, you - _you_ were drowning. I couldn’t do nothing. So I went to you.” Cas swallows. “And I pulled you out. I swam you to shore, and I wanted to go back for your parents, I did, Dean - ” - he’s imploring, now, begging Dean to believe him - “ - but Inias, he dragged me away. My whole family was furious with me for saving you, but - but I had to, you were dying - ”

Dean’s eyes have moved past Cas, and he watches the reflection of the moon, two days from being full, across the surf as he listens. He’s shivering, just faintly.

“But ever since then, I was even more enchanted. By - humanity. For years, I was, until I finally got the gills to come on land.” 

“The storm,” Dean says to the water. 

“Yes,” Cas admits. “I wasn’t truthful about the storm, and I - I apologize. It wasn’t because of the storm that I was washed up. I - I swam away. My siblings caused the storm out of anger.”

Dean just nods. He knew this. 

“There was an argument. It was the same one as always, but it escalated. It was about me, and my fascination with - with humans, and how they despised it.” Cas takes a deep breath. “Until I told them that I was leaving, I was going on land to see what it was truly like. And Zachariah, he - ”

Finally, Dean looks at him again. 

“What did he say?” Dean asks softly. 

“He said that I was staining the family by leaving, that I was disgracing all of them.” Cas’s mouth twists. “And he… just before I left, he said - ‘I hope humanity is worth it.’” 

The two of them look at one another for a moment that stretches on, as seemingly endless as the shoreline. 

Eventually, Dean nods. He shifts in the wet sand, lets his knee fall to the side. He takes a breath, lets it out through his nose. 

“Okay,” he says. His voice cracks. 

“Okay?” Cas asks with a wary frown, unsure. 

Dean nods. “Yeah, okay. Let’s - ” He glances around, swallows. “I’ll, um. I’ll go up to the Bunker, get you - some towels, and some clothes.” 

Cas stares at him. “Alright. Thank you, I’m - ” he glances down at himself. “I’m sorry about the things I was wearing.” 

But Dean waves him off, slowly getting to his feet. He feels disgusting, wet sand everywhere - up his shirt, clinging to his skin. He doesn’t look at Cas. 

“I’ll be back,” he says, and he turns away to trudge up the beach. 

He removes his shoes at the apartment door, kicking them off with a squelch and leaving them beside the mat. Hesitating, he leans down and tears his socks off, too, and tucks them into his shoes. A glance around the corner shows the Impala parked neatly in her spot, but no truck - it must still be before two o’clock. Ellen was here tonight rather than at the Roadhouse, so it makes sense John is gone. 

Dean can’t get out of his wet clothes fast enough. He tears them off as soon as he gets to his bedroom, hearing sand trickle out of each article and onto the carpet, but he can’t bring himself to care. He redresses, and he keeps his mind carefully blank the entire time. 

He checks on Sam, who he finds sleeping comfortably in his bed with his blankets up around his ears. 

Cas is right where Dean left him when he goes back. He thanks Dean quietly for the towels and clothes, watching him carefully, and Dean nods. He leaves him again, giving him privacy, after telling him to come up to the Bunker when he’s ready. 

In the meantime, Dean takes a shower. He stands under the warm spray until it turns cold, letting it wash the blood and saltwater off of him and take it down the drain. Both his elbow and the back of his neck sting painfully, but he ignores it. He shampoos his hair twice. Even after he shunts the valve off he stands there a few minutes longer. He gets out slowly, and he dresses.

He knew he would find Cas sitting on the edge of his mattress when he got back to his room, but he still startles a little when he does. He shuts the door quietly. 

He avoids Cas’s eyes and heads for his side of the bed, exhaustion dragging him down. He crawls up to his pillow and collapses onto his belly, face turned towards the wall. 

Beside him, Cas shifts towards him. Without needing to see, Dean knows he’s reaching for the shallow cut beneath his hairline. 

“Dean, let me - ”

“Don’t.” 

Dean’s voice is sharp, and Cas freezes. Eventually, Cas retracts his hand back into his own space, and Dean feels him lie back stiffly on his side of the bed. Dean doesn’t open his eyes. 

As tired as he is, Dean doesn’t sleep. It feels like there’s a buzzing inside him, and he can still smell the ocean clinging to his skin. Each time he almost drops off, he imagines the crashing of the tide and he’s jolted awake. 

He knows that Cas doesn’t sleep, either. There’s no way he could be with the way Dean’s tossing and turning, and when Dean finally can’t take it anymore and he gets out of bed, Cas sits up immediately. 

He watches Dean as he crouches in his closet to dig out his running shoes. He says nothing as Dean pulls them on, not bothering with socks. He stays silent as Dean stands and heads for the door. He slips out, shutting it with a _snick_ behind him. 

Dean runs hard. He doesn’t give himself a chance to warm up, just hits the pavement and takes off. He runs fast enough that he can’t think, his mind only taken up by the _slap slap slap_ of his feet and his heavy breathing in his ears. 

Coastal Highway is pretty dead, the bus no longer running at this time, but there are a few cars here and there. He passes a group of drunk teenagers at one point and they shout at him, beckon him from across the street but he pays them no attention. 

Sticking to the bay side, he keeps as much distance between him and the ocean as he can. He runs, and he doesn’t think, and he never feels himself settle. He makes it all the way down to the inlet and doesn’t rest, just turns to go back north. He runs until he sees the water park up ahead and he still doesn’t quiet. The thought crosses his mind that we could just keep going, run north until he leaves Ocean City and still doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t, though. When he comes up on 28th street he slows. His calves are burning and his shins are sore, and he’s hot beneath his sweats. His t-shirt sticks to his chest but he doesn’t do anything about it. At the light, he crosses the street at a jog. Someone honks at him as they speed by. 

It’s not until he hits the parking lot that he slows. He looks up from his feet as he approaches the apartment, and it’s when he finds Cas standing outside that he finally pulls up. He eases to a walk, and when he comes to a stop he does so a few meters from Cas. They regard one another in the dim parking lot, one of the street lamps burnt out and the moon, as near to full as it is, not doing much to help. Cas is fully dressed. 

Dean breathes heavily, still coming down. 

“You’re leaving,” he says. 

The words come out sounding flat but they still hurt. They drag up from where they were shoved deep in Dean’s chest, scraping like splintered driftwood the whole way. The words he couldn’t say for the past nineteen days, the ones that were flooding him. 

“Aren’t you?” 

Cas looks away, but not before Dean sees his mouth crumple devastatingly. It just makes him angry. 

He scoffs, shaking his head. “The next moon, huh, Cas?” 

That gets Cas’s attention, his head snapping up and his eyes wide. 

“You’re ahead of schedule,” Dean says bitterly. “I heard everything. From Naomi and Zachariah.”

Cas shakes his head. “Dean - ”

“I wanted to believe you weren't gonna go,” Dean interrupts. “But you are, aren’t you? That’s why they didn’t pull you home tonight, when you jumped in after me. Two days, and you’re going back anyway.” 

Apparently at a loss for words, Cas just gapes at him, saying nothing. 

“You quit your job at the pet store, I know you did - ” Dean’s voice is rising in volume as his anger washes up inside him. “ - just admit it, Cas, you know I’m right.” But Cas still doesn’t respond, avoiding Dean’s eye, and Dean shoves him hard in the chest. Cas stumbles back, startled, and Dean advances on him. “Just fucking say it, Cas!” 

“I never wanted to hurt you!” Cas finally shouts, and Dean freezes. They stare at one another, both breathing hard. “This - it was never my intention. All this time, that's what I’ve been trying to avoid - ”

At that, Dean laughs. It’s dark and it’s dangerous and it hurts, Dean’s insides squeezing violently as it crashes out of him like high tide. 

“Well, nice job, Cas. Seriously, good fucking work with that.” Passing a hand over his mouth roughly, Dean wants to dig his fingers into his ribs hard enough to crack them but he doesn’t. “And then - after all that, you have the nerve to tell _me_ \- you tell _me_ that I should leave, that I should go to college, stand up to my dad even though you don’t have the guts to do the same fucking thing - _unbelievable_ , Cas, I swear - ” 

Cas takes a steadying breath, and his voice is softer, more controlled, when he says, “Dean, I still think - ”

“No.” Dean cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Don’t you fucking dare, Cas. Don’t you fucking dare say that to me again.” 

Chastised, Cas drops his eyes. They both breathe for a long minute, facing each other in the dark with the ocean crashing distantly. 

“I’m sorry - ”

“You know what,” Dean says quietly. "Maybe you should leave, Cas." 

He doesn’t let himself react to his own words. He watches Cas swallow, looking absolutely shattered, and Dean turns away from him so he doesn’t have to see. He speaks to the ground. 

“I guess I wasn’t worth it after all, huh?”

“Dean - ”

“Fuck off, Cas.” 

Dean stands completely still and there’s sea glass in his throat, sharp and piercing, and the ocean in his lungs is threatening to take him under. He holds his breath for what feels like forever, and he doesn’t turn to watch when Cas finally walks away. 

Like the tide going out, his footsteps recede, and Dean is alone.


End file.
